At Times I Almost Dream
by IceonFire7
Summary: After "Dead Man Walking", what if Monroe woke up not in that room outside of Willoughby, but in Philadelphia, in his own past? After spending time traveling with Charlie, he began to change. Now faced with the same choices, will his decisions be different? What if you had a chance to do it all over again? Rated T for language & some sexual content. May change to M later. Charloe.
1. I Already Know Who You Are

**Time travel stories seem to be popular at the moment. And they are all so very well done. This one is going to be a bit different, I think.**

**This first chapter is rather long. It got away from me a bit, but in the end, I felt all this backstory was necessary. We need to see the bonding of Bass and Charlie on their way back to Willoughby. I also felt it all needed to be in the first chapter. **

**I own nothing of Revolution, which is a shame really. Cause then we'd have a season 3. And Charloe. But alas, I own nothing, but if David Lyons were to show up here, I wouldn't turn him away.**

**This is dedicated to _all_ my Charloe friends, you know who you are. I love you all...in a totally platonic Miloe sort of way ;). And a special nod to Lemon Supreme, for reading through this for me when I was struggling with it. And to wildirish, who kept me going one night when I just couldn't work on it anymore. Thanks, guys. **

* * *

"At times I almost dream

I too have spent a life the sages' way,

And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance

I perished in an arrogant self-reliance

Ages ago; and in that act a prayer

For one more chance went up so earnest, so

Instinct with better light let in by death,

That life was blotted out — not so completely

But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,

Dim memories, as now, when once more seems

The goal in sight again."

― Robert Browning

* * *

_"What if I tell you to go to hell?"_

_"What makes you think you got a choice?"_

A week later those words still hung in the air between them. They had barely spoken since then; nods from her and grunts from him were their only form of communication. If she didn't hate him so much, he might have found the whole thing amusing. As it was, he still feared her slitting his throat in the dark of the night.

Sebastian Monroe had never been afraid of a beautiful woman; he'd also never failed to soften the opposite sex when applying the right amount of charm. Well, that and smoldering looks when they met his eyes. Of course, Charlotte Matheson would prove to be the exception to the rule. He'd felt odd using any sort of sexual tactics where she was concerned, and not because of age or family connections. Not even because of the bad history they shared. No, something about Charlotte screamed "warrior", as if she was an equal who demanded respect.

So, he kept things the way they were, allowing silence to fill up the space they occupied. But it was slowly driving him out of his mind. His reputation for being a feared and solitary leader just wasn't true; Bass had always been a social creature. And he wasn't the man he'd been even six months ago. As bombs descended on two eastern cities, General Sebastian Monroe struck out, and Bass Monroe, the man who'd been lost for years, stepped up to the plate, trying desperately to regain his life.

And all he really wanted right now was to talk. Have a little conversation. Pass the time to Willoughby a little faster. But Charlie was most likely never going to indulge his whim. So he sat quietly, sharpening his blades.

She'd just returned from hunting and was cleaning the meat by the fire, but every now and again, he would feel her eyes ghost over him before returning to her task. Despite the fact that he hadn't made one move against her, she was still leery of him. He supposed he couldn't blame her; saving her life once or twice didn't make up for all he had taken.

But he was trying, damn it.

There it was again. Those sharp blue eyes scanning him. Enough was enough. "What?"

Silence.

"Charlie, what?" He'd long ago dropped the Charlotte. She'd made it crystal clear that she preferred Charlie, and he was doing his best to grant her the respect she deserved.

She hesitated, as if gathering her words. "I'm just wondering what you're hoping to gain from this."

"I thought I explained all that." She looked at him, her gaze making him uncomfortable. Her eyes were as blue as his, and he briefly wondered if she found it as disconcerting when he stared at her. "I need Miles. He's gonna need my help. You're gonna need my help."

She tipped her head, regarding him closely. "I know that's what you said, but I can't help thinking that's not what you're going back for. What do you really want?"

He paused, wondering how much he should reveal. Traveling with her, even for just a week, he was beginning to understand how Miles had fallen under her spell. She captivated so easily. "Your uncle."

"You want my uncle?"

At her raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Charlie, not like that."

"Thanks for the clarification. I've wondered..." She chuckled.

Her soft laugh was rewarding. So he opened his heart a little wider. "I want my best friend. I have nothing left. There've been times in my life when I thought I had absolutely nothing. I was wrong. At the very least, I always had...a brother."

"Miles."

"But I don't even have that now." He did have a son, and when he'd ruled a Republic, he'd had a chance to find him. Now, even that possibility was gone. "I have no one in this whole world who gives a damn. And the only chance I have of anyone even starting to care...is your uncle. He's the only one who might ever be able to forgive me. He's the last chance I have."

He swallowed thickly. How had he ever turned into the monster he became? How disappointed would his parents be, his sisters, Shelly, their baby, his son... "Do you know how lonely it is to not have anyone? I don't know how I let it get so far."

He blinked, shaking his head to flick the tears away. Glancing away from the campfire, he took a deep breath before turning back to her. Fiery blue met icy blue. Jesus, he hadn't meant to tell her any of that. Now she'd just accuse him of making his eyes water at will again.

But she surprised the hell out of him. "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I don't know what it's like to not have anything or anybody. There was always someone that...cared. And even when I need to get away from them, they're still there. I can't imagine what it's like to be completely alone." She broke his gaze and looked down. "It always seemed that everybody left me. But there was always somebody..."

So they had that much in common. The fear of being left alone. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes to clear the remnants of his little outburst. "Well, it sucks. To not be able to trust anyone."

"I guess it does."

They stared at each other, blue on blue. And something shifted. Some small part inside of him; he thought she felt it, too. Maybe she hadn't forgiven him, but maybe she had, in that moment, realized he was just a man. A lonely, broken man.

"I don't...I don't forgive you. I still blame you."

"Good," he answered. Rachel had been right that day in the tower. He could no longer make excuses for the blood on his hands. "You should. It's my fault."

"It's not entirely your fault."

Well, it was just his night for surprises, wasn't it? "What?"

"Part of it is Tom Neville's fault, too."

Bass scoffed. "Him. That back-stabbing son of a bitch."

"I thought he was a trusted soldier?" she asked, the mocking tone back in her voice. "I mean you did promote him, after he killed my father, didn't you? Danny told me you promised to deal with him, but then, all of a sudden, Neville's a major."

Just another sin he'd committed against her. "Yeah, I did. I didn't want your father to die, Charlie. That was never in the plan. And for what it's worth, I am sorry for what I did to your family. I promoted Neville...because he was becoming a liability. And because sometimes, especially when you're paranoid, the idea of keeping your enemies closer than your friends makes sense. And I had far more enemies than friends."

Their eyes locked for another minute. What was it about this woman that was getting under his skin?

"I still don't forgive you...but I wouldn't wish such loneliness on anyone." God, she had a good heart. Underneath the rough-edged exterior, she had a tender soul. A rage swelled up in him suddenly at the thought of anyone ever bruising it. How long had it taken Miles to wrap around her little finger? No wonder his brother had marched right into Philly to destroy him. He was beginning to think he would promise Charlie Matheson the world. "The rabbits are done."

"Yeah," he said, her words yanking him back to reality. Jesus, he'd wanted a little small talk. How in the hell had they wound up having a heart to heart?

* * *

After their fireside chat, tensions loosened up between them a bit. He wasn't a friend or family member; he certainly wasn't a trusted uncle, but she began to treat him differently. She deferred to him sometimes and even listened to some of his suggestions without arguing. Well, with less arguing anyway. It was almost as if they were business partners, which he supposed made sense. They both had somewhere to be and a job to do to get there.

Four days later, things changed even more.

Only ten minutes had passed since she'd left for the rinky-dink little town they'd camped by to pick up supplies when he heard the gun shot. He grabbed his own gun and swords, strapping them on as he raced through the woods. It could just be hunters shooting at their dinner; however, all the military instincts in his body screamed otherwise. And there was one thing he did know.

Charlie didn't have a gun.

Through the thicket of trees up ahead, he saw her. Two men surrounded her, one holding a gun on her. Nothing she hadn't faced before. But it was the one twisting her arm sharply behind her back that made his blood boil. He knew her enough to know she was in pain, but the look on her face was pure defiance. No, this girl never let her enemies see her weakness.

His eyes scanned the scene. Huh. There was a thug already laid out on the ground. So, she'd taken one out. He swiftly tamped down the pride that swelled through him. Damn, Miles had taught her well. But the teaching was only as good as the student. He hadn't really seen her in action yet, but maybe she was even better than he thought.

In one swift motion, he pushed through the foliage and pressed his gun to the back of the first assailant's head. "Drop it, asshole. Let her go."

The man with the gun stiffened, but he didn't relinquish his weapon. "No can do, man. We want this one."

"I'm not for sale, dickhead," she spat.

Bass had to hold back a smile. "Let her go. Or I put a bullet through your brain. Which would you prefer?"

"You can't get us both. And, uh, I'd say we're holding all the cards." Asshole #1 tipped his head a little, just in enough time for Bass to notice the knife the other son of a bitch had whipped out and pressed to her throat. "You shoot me. He slices her throat."

His eyes met Charlie's. If she was Miles, they'd get out of this in a heartbeat. But the two of them had a sophisticated method of silent communication. Just how much had Miles taught her? He blinked three times rapidly and caught the recognition in her baby blues. Well, wouldn't he be damned? Still, signals only went so far. Could she predict his next move like her uncle?

The cold hardness that slid into her eyes told him she could.

The next minute passed by in a blink. He shot the prick in front of him just as Charlie slid her head to the side away from her captor's blade. Bass's second shot fired into the man's head ten seconds after his buddy fell. Charlie ripped the knife out of his hand as he collapsed to the ground.

He let out a deep breath, crossing over to her, unable to stop the concern he was feeling. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"How the hell did you let them get the drop on you?"

The irate look she shot him told him it was the wrong question to ask. Maybe it wasn't tactful, but he really didn't like the niggling of fear he'd felt when he'd seen her held at gunpoint. "I didn't let them do anything. They were sitting around here, and they weren't exactly making noise. They were waiting for someone to come along."

"And it just happened to be you." Most likely they were thieves lying in wait for an unsuspecting traveler to pass by. But Charlie was a tracker and a hunter; she knew how to be silent when necessary. Still, if she'd walked right into a secret trap, that really wasn't her fault. However, it didn't stop his anger. And when he was angry, he had a way of saying the stupidest things. "They could have killed you. You have to be more careful."

"I was being careful."

"Not enough. Traveling for a woman is not that safe anymore. You have to be completely tuned in to your surroundings at all times. Do you want to wind up like you were back at that bar?" Yeah, stupider and stupider.

Her cheeks reddened. "I was watching what I was doing. In spite of what you think, I do know some things. It was a trap."

"That you fell right into." His temper had always been bad. When it was combined with concern for someone he cared about, it became downright violent. The formation of an entire dictatorial empire being the obvious giveaway. So wait, was he really saying that he cared about Charlie?

"Look, Monroe. I'm putting up with you traveling with me because you were right. We need you. But don't think I'm going to let you talk to me like I'm some lackey in your little tin can militia." She stepped up to him, lifting her head to stare into his eyes. Why did they always wind up this close when they were arguing? The tension in these moments pulsed through him every time. "I wasn't being an idiot. In fact...I was keeping my stupid to a minimum."

He was taken aback as Miles's words spilled from her mouth. "They would have murdered you where you stood, Charlie. After they took something far worse from you."

"Why do you even care?" she asked, holding her ground in his personal space. "You let Strausser hold a gun on me. And don't even try to tell me you wouldn't have let him use it."

All the color drained from Bass's face. As much as he wanted with all of his heart to tell her she was wrong, he just couldn't. He would have let Strausser shoot her in the head if it would have forced Rachel to build the amplifier. That was the man he'd been; the man who had gotten so lost over the years, leaving nothing but the animal left inside. But he was trying so damn hard to change. "You're right. I would have let him."

Her eyes widened as if she'd always suspected but hoped it wasn't the truth. "Bastard."

"Oh, I was, Charlie. I really was." He closed the final bit of distance between them until they were nearly touching. "I would have done anything to get that power back on. To get those fucking helicopters in the air. To destroy anyone that stood in my way."

"You would have murdered thousands."

"Yeah, I would have." He let out a huge sigh and stepped back from her. The intensity of being so close to her buzzed through his body, dissipating the moment he got a little breathing room. All the fight and fury of General Monroe seeped out of him, and he was just Bass again. He suddenly felt all of his 44 years. "I would have then. I wouldn't now."

"Bullshit."

"I wouldn't, Charlie. I don't want the Republic back. As you so gently pointed out, I sucked at my job." He shouldn't expect her to understand, but God help him, he wanted her to. "At the beginning, we wanted it to be a safe place, a sanctuary for those alone and helpless after the Blackout. We wanted it to be...something good. But maybe your uncle and I had seen too much as soldiers, had too much darkness in us to really make things better."

"You're saying you wouldn't jump at the chance to get yourself back up on the throne?" Her sharp blue eyes held so much disbelief.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm saying I never should have been on that throne in the first place. But out of your uncle or me, I was the more 'people person', shall we say. So it fell to me. He was in charge of the soldiers. And after he left, I was in charge of it all. An entire fucking empire of my own. And all I really wanted, that whole time, was my brother back."

She still didn't look convinced. "And I'm supposed to believe that now you wouldn't let your pit-bull put a gun to my head?"

"Do you seriously think after all the times I've saved you recently, that I would let someone deliberately hold you hostage?" Jesus, he wasn't even really saving her for Miles or Rachel anymore; he was saving her because she was Charlie, because she deserved his loyalty. She was Miles's family, so that made her an extension of his. "I just shot two men. I slaughtered an entire bar. And you think I'd let someone hurt you?"

For one moment, her eyes softened, as if he'd just pledged undying love to her. It intrigued him. Was it possible she appreciated the fact that he had her back? Then the mask slipped back on. "Well, Miles might kick your ass if you show up in Willoughby with my corpse."

"That's not why I did it." Bile rose in his throat at the thought of her dying. "You're Miles's. That makes you mine as well. I would never...let Strausser hurt you now, Charlie. Not without putting a bullet in his brain."

They stared at each other, two shades of blue swirling into one. He found he meant every word. Here they were, surrounded by the men they'd just killed, having another heartfelt chat. Why was he always revealing the secrets in his soul to her? And why did it feel like she was already wedging herself into his blackened heart.

She nodded, seeming to accept his words as the truth. "We should go. I never got those supplies."

"I think we'll wait until the next town." He slid his gun back into the waistband of his pants. They'd crossed a big line with each other, but it appeared they were going to play it cool. Which was probably the smart thing to do. He had her back and she knew it; what else needed to be said?

He'd already turned away, ready to head back to their camp, when she shouted his name. He whirled around, whipping his blades out and crossing them above his head, stopping the knife from plunging into him. The man he'd thought was dead all along was very much alive and ready to stab him to death. He yanked his arms down, the force of movement pushing the assailant back. Bass was good enough to take this bastard out with one more stroke. But much to his surprise, the man halted and swayed, coughing up a smattering of blood before collapsing face first into the ground.

Standing behind him was Charlie.

"I thought you killed him."

"I did," she said.

"Before."

"Well, I didn't."

He scoffed. "Oh, that's right. You don't like killing, unless you have to."

"No, that's not it." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I just didn't have time for anything else but knocking him out. I was a little busy being a hostage."

Jesus, he hadn't even checked to make sure the son of a bitch was dead. What the hell was wrong with him? She was making him soft. All this bantering with her was going to get him killed unless he got his head back in the game. "We should go."

He watched her rip the knife from the corpse before he headed back towards camp. He hadn't gotten very far when she called out to him. "Monroe."

"What?" He looked at her.

"A thank you would be nice." The smug smile on her face pissed him off.

He glared at her before spinning away and stalking off, her laughter echoing. What a pain in the ass! This girl, this young woman, drove him insane. But in all honesty, he was impressed. He hadn't had a chance to see her skills at work until that very moment. While it was obvious she'd been trained by her uncle, it was also obvious that she'd been a great learner. And she wasn't afraid to go for the kill, not when it was necessary. It was nice to have a fighter like that by his side again.

No, damn it, he had to nip those thoughts right in the bud. He'd already said too much in those stupid conversations they'd been having. They weren't friends. He could not afford to allow her to distract him from returning to Miles and Willoughby. He had a plan and he was sticking to it. Get Charlie Matheson back to her mother and uncle in one piece. Anything else he felt stirring in his gut was to be shoved to the farthest corners of his mind.

* * *

Two days later, she stomped away from him after they had another huge fight. His need to keep everything business-like between them crimped the slight truce they'd formed after their initial deep talk. They were back to slurs and taunts until the big blowout that had her walking away from him, swearing that this time he would never be able to follow.

He shouldn't have given a crap. He knew now that Miles was in Willoughby; he should have just headed there, the hell with Charlie. But damn it, he couldn't just leave her behind. He had to make sure she was okay. Images of the last time she'd been off on her own, in that bar, came flooding back. He could never allow that to happen to her.

So he'd followed her. At least he did for several hours until losing the trail completely. He was a fair tracker, but Charlie was right. If she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. Now what the hell was he going to do?

Cursing the upcoming evening, he stashed the horses and wagon and made his way to the nearest small town, hoping for a meal and a drink, a place where he could relax and plan his next move. He hated that she was out there all on her own, no matter how tough she was. He hated that he hated she was out there; she was digging too deeply into him and she was doing it quickly. And the worst part was this was no longer about Miles. Damn it, he had to find her.

Entering the town of Belle Blossom, what the hell kind of name was Belle Blossom, he scanned the streets, searching for the local bar. A town as small as this rarely had more than one public place for food or drink. One thing he did notice about the main drag was how very...pretty it was. Large wooden pots lined the sides of the street, filled with various types of flowers. He couldn't even name the varieties, but the colors ranged from rich, deep reds to vibrant, cool blues. It was downright beautiful.

The first thought he had was how much his mother would have loved it, followed by how very clean the rest of the town looked. It was almost as if the Blackout hadn't affected the town of Belle Blossom, and he could finally see the reason for the name. Beautiful flower. How very quaint.

There weren't many people walking about, only a few women who eyed him with interest. Well, stranger in town and all, but he found it comforting that the women felt safe enough to be out after dark without men around. The town must have been very well-protected.

He located the very charming hotel at the end of the main street. Tall torches lit up the outside of the building, and he could have sworn the paint on it looked pink. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Lacey curtains billowed in the breeze from every window, the soft glow of oil lamp lighting inside offering a warm invitation. The front entrance was closed, but off to the left, a door was propped open, the sound of talking coming from inside. Maybe this was the bar. As he stepped through, he was struck.

It was like taking a step back in time.

The interior looked exactly like a saloon from the Wild West, but with a female touch. The wallpaper had a floral print, like something he remembered from his grandmother's house, and the curtains the same lace as the hotel, but other than that, it was pure gunslinger's watering hole, complete with a bar, gaming tables, and a small stage. Bass was certain it had been set up like that prior to the Blackout, probably to bring in tourists. But it had obviously been well cared for in the subsequent years. There was no new wallpaper after the Blackout, so someone had painstakingly seen to its upkeep.

Off to his left, a few tables had been pushed together and a group of women sat playing cards. They were probably around his age, maybe a little older, but again there were no men present. He shook his head a little at the slight discomfort that thought brought. Why should that bother him? Most likely they were a card club of sorts, meeting at the local bar, while their husbands spent the night at home. Still, the hungry looks a few of them shot him didn't really help to calm his nerves.

He sat at the bar; not only was he the only man in the place, he was the only customer there, other than the card club. The female bartender turned to him, cocking her head to one side as her eyes traveled over him before returning his gaze.

"What can I get you?" she asked with a wink.

The brunette was about ten years older than him, and quite pretty. He surmised in her youth, she must have been a knockout, but now age and the kind of life the Blackout had led to seemed to be catching up. Her green eyes were still striking though, and under other circumstances, he probably would have flirted right back at her. Age in either direction had never really bothered Bass; a beautiful woman was a beautiful woman. But right now, the entire situation was setting his teeth on edge, and he had no idea why. But he'd long ago learned to trust his instincts. And the paranoia of the last several years of his life sometimes came in handy.

"Just something to eat, and whatever liquor you have available." She nodded and poured him a whiskey before heading into what he assumed was the kitchen.

He spun around on his bar stool just a bit, giving him a chance to watch the women playing cards. The fact that all of them had stopped playing and were looking at him and whispering to each other spiked his adrenaline even more. What the hell was happening here? He had a very vivid flashback of finding Charlie drugged and in the presence of men about to rape and murder her. But that was ridiculous. There was no way he was in danger here. They were just local women. Living in an adorably cute town. Where he had yet to see one man.

He spun back around when he heard the bartender return. Except now, she wasn't alone. A tall, busty redhead sauntered in behind her. Bass guessed she was in her mid-fifties, though the woman was actually quite attractive in a very vampish sort of way. Not that he didn't have experience with woman like that; he'd certainly had a few man-eaters eating out of his hand after finishing with them. But right now, with everything else going on around him, she amped the tension even more.

But he handled it like he did every unexpected situation. With a monotone, uninterested air. "So, uh, when exactly did I step into the Twilight Zone?"

She smiled, a big, wide, shit-eating grin if he ever saw one. "You're funny. And adorably cute."

"Thanks."

"I'm Mae. Mae Berry."

"You're name is Mae Berry?" He cleared his throat. "How very Andy Griffith of you."

"I like a sense of humor in a man," she said, her voice low and seductive. He'd used that tone himself many a time. It generally meant he was going to devour the woman he was attempting to entice. "We find it very sexy."

"We? As in..."

"Well, you've wandered into our town, Mr..."

"King. James King."

"Well, Mr. King, welcome to Belle Blossom. We're a very close-knit community. I look out for the women here. They are my...family shall we say. And family shares everything." She sidled up next to him at the bar. "Including the latest single man to come to our fair town."

"Uh, well, that's an interesting proposition. But, um, I'm going to have to decline."

Her smile widened, but her eyes hardened. Jesus, she was a female version of Strausser. Because when he really looked at her, he thought she was maybe a little insane. "Oh, but you can't decline. We don't get a lot of male companionship here, so we have to make do with what we can find."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed all the women at the tables had stood and moved closer to the bar, and to him. So what was this? A creepy coven of desperate women led by a fruit loop? He had to play this cool, like the smooth-talking ex-dictator that he was.

"So you, uh, run this cute little town?"

"I do."

"And there's no men here?" he asked.

"Not at the current moment. The last one who came through here was over six months ago. He was very feisty. And he didn't stay long." Yeah, imagine that. She hopped up onto the stool next to him, the slit in her skirt hitching higher up her leg. She wasn't as tall as he'd originally thought; the high-heeled boots added to her height. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had given him the creeps. Yes, he could; it was Rachel. The moment she shoved a screwdriver through a man's chest. Mae leaned in closer to him, resting a hand on his leg. "Well, he just didn't know how to treat a lady. But you, James, you certainly look like you do."

It was official; he was trapped in a Stephen King novel. He'd seen some weird things during his years in the Republic. Found towns and communities pulling shit that had turned his stomach. It was like after the Blackout, all the crazies took over and made the world the fucked up way they wanted it. It was one of the reasons the Monroe Republic had been created, to try and restore some semblance of order. Until he'd fallen as far off the wagon as the rest of the loons.

But never in his life had he seen a community of women just waiting around for a man to have sex with them. He'd always just assumed the fairer sex could get laid whenever they wanted to. But maybe here in Butt-fuck, Texas, it wasn't that easy to find partners. Oh, Jesus, had he just thought the word butt-fuck? He glanced around at the card club; some of those women looked like they might enjoy that. Unease was settling in his stomach.

Stay cool, Sebastian. You can handle this. "Well, Mae, I, um, I'm very flattered. But there's just one little problem?"

"And what is that?" She frowned.

"You said earlier that you share the single men who come through town." She nodded. "What about when couples pass through? What then?"

"We're a female run society, James. We do have some honor. We don't steal other women's men."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you, Mae. I'm very married."

She chuckled. "Really? I see no wedding ring."

"Who can afford one in this day and age." It was the truth; many couples didn't wear rings, or even get officially married in the post-Blackout world. As much as he'd considered her his wife, he hadn't given a ring to Shelly.

"We saw you come into town alone, James."

"We had a fight. She stalked off, and I've been searching for her ever since." None of that was a lie; he had been searching for Charlie since she'd disappeared. But she would annihilate him if she ever heard him referring to her as his wife.

"I think you're lying, James." Mae stood, tracing a long nail down his cheek. "I think you're trying to play games with us."

Several other women had entered the saloon, effectively blocking the exit. He'd gotten out of many sticky positions, but he didn't have any idea how to get himself out of this one. They weren't really threatening him, so it's not like he could just kill them. Fuck. What the hell had he gotten himself into? This was all Charlie's fault; he was so busy worrying about her, he'd traipsed right into an insane asylum. "I'm not lying. I'm married."

Mae stepped right in front of him, grabbing his shirt and gazing up at him. "Well then, where is she?"

"I'm right here, actually." Every head in the joint swiveled to the woman standing at the door, arms crossed over her chest. Charlie. Christ, he'd never been so happy to see someone before in his life. "Would you mind stepping away from him? He's sorta mine."

Well, that much was true. If anyone had the right to him, it was Charlotte Matheson. Of course for her, that meant the right to assassinate him.

Mae looked back at him, disappointment evident on her features. She sighed and stepped away, waiting for Charlie as she made her way through the crowd of women. "Mrs. King, I presume."

"Well, we're not really into titles, are we, honey?" Charlie turned to him, a cocked eyebrow daring him to disagree.

"Of course not, baby." He was concerned she wouldn't follow through on the charade and keep her distance from him. When she slid an arm around his waist and snuggled into his side, he was pleasantly surprised. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her to him and kissing the top of her head. "I was worried about you. I'm sorry we fought."

Ice blue eyes met his, and he swore he saw humor in them. Jesus, she thought this shit was funny. "I just needed some time. Sorry if I scared you. But you know I can take care of myself."

"Doesn't mean I don't worry."

"Looks like you were the one I should be worried about." She looked to Mae and extended her hand. "Charlotte Porter King. So what has my dear husband done to have such a large audience?"

"Well, we were just discussing his...accommodations before you arrived." The older woman's eyes lingered on Bass.

"Well, I found her, Mae, so I guess we'll be on our way for the night." He kept his arm around Charlie as he angled them toward the door. "Thanks for...everything."

He should have known it would never be that easy. The women who had quickly separated to allow Charlie in now blocked their exit yet again. His hand tightened on his fake wife's shoulder, drawing her even closer against his side.

"Charlotte..." Mae started. Charlie looked at her. "We could use a good man like James here. Do you think we could...buy him off of you?"

Buy him! They wanted to freaking purchase him like he was on the shelf at Wal-Mart? Charlie snorted, then quickly coughed, and he glared at her; she was barely concealing her laughter. It took every effort inside him not to shove her away. Son of bitch, this wasn't funny.

Charlie crossed her arms again and stared at Mae. "What sort of payment are we talking about here?"

"Charlotte!" he shouted. She wouldn't; she just damn well wouldn't.

Mae seemed hopeful, but Charlie nipped it in the bud. "I'm only joking, James. I guess I was a little angrier than I thought. I'm sorry, but...he's mine, all mine. I just couldn't live without him."

She grabbed his face and squished his cheeks together, blowing an air kiss at his puckered lips. Fuck, but she squeezed really hard. "Love you, baby."

"Love you too, honey." Her words called him honey, but her eyes called him dickhead. They were having a huge ass discussion when they got out of this.

He began to lead her back towards the entrance, the sea of women magically parting to let them through. Before they got too far, Mae reached for Charlie's arm, yanking her around. Charlie let out a yelp as she spun back to the woman.

"Wait, please! Maybe we could just buy some time with him!" Mae pleaded.

He'd had enough. Charlie's cry of pain had ended any charitable feelings he might have harbored for these women. "Let go of my wife. Now!"

Mae must have heard the threat in his tone, for she released Charlie and stepped away from them. He wrapped a hand around Charlie's upper arm and guided her out the door.

By the time they made it back to the where he'd stashed the wagon, he was fit to be tied. Charlie had been chuckling the entire way, and he really couldn't hold it in anymore. He was angry, annoyed, and more than a little embarrassed by how the evening had played out. Crashing through the undergrowth, he nearly exploded when he discovered the wagon was gone.

"What the...are you joking me?"

Charlie laughed again. "Relax, Monroe. I moved it."

His eyes narrowed at her. He'd had about enough of her taunts; his patience was running extremely thin. "How the hell did you know where it was?"

"Because I've been following you for half a day," she explained in that aggravating calm way she had. With her hands on her hips, she looked like a bossy teenager.

"I followed you." He didn't want to say that he'd lost her, give her another reason to laugh at his expense tonight.

"Because I let you. But then you...got stuck. I circled around and tailed you. Saw where you left the wagon, moved it to a better spot, a good place to camp. Come on." She tilted her head in a motion to follow, then took off without waiting for him.

He went after her; there was no way he could let this go. "So you just decided to move my stuff?"

Charlie sighed. "Monroe, can't you just for once stop trying to be in charge all the time. Yes, I moved it. To a much better location." They came out into a small clearing that was far enough off the road to allow for a small fire. He had to admit it was a prime spot to set up for the night. She pointed to the wagon across from them. "Just be glad I did. And just be glad I followed you. Or you might still be trapped in the village of Belle Blossom. What do think all those ladies would be doing to you right now?"

With that she burst out into laughter again. "It's not funny, Charlie."

"Y-yes, it is. You should have seen your face." Giggles erupted, and she plopped down on a fallen tree.

"It was **not** funny."

"Yeah, it was. The big bad general Monroe freaking out over a group of sex-starved women."

He huffed. "They were crazy."

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" She snorted and started chuckling again.

In spite of himself, he felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It was a damn good comeback. Still, he was angry... "They would have kept me there. It's not funny."

She nodded, laughing so hard there were tears forming in her eyes. "It was hysterical."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

The entire event played back in his head, and he began to see how it could be sort of comical. A tiny bubble of amusement swelled up, and he snorted. "Well, I've...I've always had a way with women."

At that she let out a cackle, and they both fell into a fit of laughter. Tears were still streaming as she choked out a few words. "They were gonna eat you alive. Especially that big one. I thought she was going to fight me for you."

"The one at the card table?" he asked. She nodded a 'yes', wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm not even sure that was a woman, Charlie."

His response set off an entire new set of giggles. "Aren't you glad I was there?"

He laughed with her for a few more minutes before her words sobered him a little. He gazed at her. "Why were you there?"

"Huh?"

"Why were you there? We fought, and you took off. Why let me follow you? Why follow me?"

Her expression went from one of mirth to one of seriousness in about two seconds. She glanced away from him, breaking eye contact before speaking. "Because I realized that you were right. If the Patriots are after my mother, we're going to need your help."

Her eyes met his again, and he stared at her. "Yeah, that's what you say, but I can't help thinking that's not all there is."

She sighed. "Using my own words against me, Monroe? Pretty dirty."

"I just want to know, Charlie."

She seemed to fight a battle within herself, a resigned look on her face as she accepted the fact that she might have to give in. "Because we still have some rough...areas to go through. It might be better to have..."

"A partner?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice quiet and nonchalant, her eyes everywhere but on him.

Not that she would ever come out and admit it to him, but he knew the events in the bar had shaken her. And that upset her. Charlie was the type of woman who liked to be in control. She definitely didn't want to be coddled and cooed over. She was a warrior. "There are times when even the toughest men need help. Most don't want to concede that fact, but it's true. There are times when even the toughest woman could use a man as back-up."

"Great." She rolled her eyes.

So strong, his little fighter. Wait a minute...his? "Well, as proven tonight, there are times when even a hard-ass could use a woman as back-up. Come on, Charlie, if you hadn't been there, I'd probably be a sex slave for Elvira right about now."

She smirked. "Who's Elvira?"

He let out a loud guffaw. "She was...a mistress of the dark. Before, you know, everything got dark."

"Did you date her?"

He laughed again. "No, she was famous. In movies and stuff. But she used to wear dresses kinda like our friend back in the Blossom did."

Charlie nodded, standing and pulling a few cans of food from the back of the wagon. In all the hullabaloo, he'd forgotten that he hadn't eaten anything since the morning. "Aaron used to talk about movies."

"Aaron Pittman?" Bass asked.

Absentmindedly, she handed him a can of fruit, then sat back on the log. And just like that, their tenuous truce was back on. They would eat and then he'd start a fire to keep them warm. The days were getting shorter, and he could feel the change in the air, signaling the coming autumn. "Yeah, he was kind of our teacher back in Sylvania Estates. But he taught about everything. He said that pop culture was as important to remember as math and science."

He probably would have liked a guy like Pittman if Neville hadn't screwed up his capture. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He would have liked the guy because he was a genius; he might have been able to restore the power. Or create some other super weapon. "Yeah, well, there are some movies it would be a shame to forget."

"Did you like movies?" she asked.

"Everyone liked movies. Just...not the same type of movie." He eyed her trying to open the pop-top on her can of pears. She wasn't able to pull it off and then he caught the reason why. "Charlie, what's wrong with your wrist?"

Startled eyes locked on his before she covered her reaction. "What are you talking about?"

"You're favoring your left wrist." He cut her off before she could protest. "Charlie, I was a soldier. I know an injury when I see one. What happened?"

"It's fine. It's just a little..."

"Sore."

She nodded, setting the can down and swiveling her wrist, hissing when she hit a painful spot. "It was just from..."

From Mae, who had grabbed her arm and spun her around. But the woman hadn't used enough force to cause that much damage. Unless the wrist was already hurt. His mind flashed back to two men holding Charlie hostage in the woods. Her left arm pulled behind her back. "Son of a bitch. You've been nursing this for two days."

"Monroe, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are." He got up and moved over to her side, straddling the log she was sitting on and reaching for her hand. She pulled it away like always, as if his fingers were toxic. "Charlie, let me see it."

She hesitated a bit longer. Even though they'd formed a cease-fire of sorts, she was still wary of touching him. When he kept his gaze stern and steady on her, she finally relented, placing her hand into his outstretched palm.

He maneuvered it around a bit, gently testing the range of movement. Her sharp intake of breath signaled that he'd found the injury. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she ground out, teeth clenched.

"It seems like just a sprain, Charlie. Hang on." He went to the wagon, digging through the supplies in the back. Finding a raggedy towel, he ripped it in half, taking one strip back and resuming his spot beside her. "I'm going to wrap it, okay? The support should keep it from getting so jostled. Maybe help you use it with less pain."

She nodded again, and he carefully started the task of binding her wrist. As tender as he was, he could tell the contact hurt her, but she was being one hell of a trooper. What could he do to take her mind off of it? "So, Aaron, explained movies to you. Which one sounded like you'd like to see it?"

She glanced at him. "I don't know. The action ones I guess. I liked the idea of adventures. Of going off to distant worlds and lands."

"Any one in particular?"

"Well he talked about a few after we read the books. He said the Lord of the Rings movies were good. And the Harry Potter ones."

Yeah, even after all these years, Harry Potter was still hard for him to think about. "So you liked those books?"

"I loved them. All of them, for both series."

"And still no favorite?"

"Well..." He smirked at her. Whatever her choice for movie was, it embarrassed her.

"What was it?"

"It was this..." He raised an eyebrow, waiting. "It was a story about a machine that was, like a robot, and it came back from the future and hunted this woman."

Considering her embarrassment, he'd expected some type of chick flick. But this? She was embarrassed by this choice? "The Terminator? Your favorite was The Terminator?"

"Yeah."

"That was an awesome movie, Charlie."

She smiled, and for the first time he could remember, it was a genuine smile directed at him. "The girl in it, Sarah, she was a bad-ass."

"Yes, she was," he said. Leave it to this little warrior to like the movie because of the heroine.

"But then she had help. That guy, Reese...he came through time to help her. Because he loved her, more than anything..."

That was unexpected. Hard-nosed Charlie, the spitfire who stared down a gun, defying him at every turn, had a romantic soul. "Well, some women are worth traveling through time for."

Their eyes locked and held, blue ice on blue flame. The second she realized he wasn't teasing her, her gaze softened. He knew he should look away, break the little moment unfolding between them, but he just couldn't. She was so damn lovely. He'd finished bandaging her wrist and yet he still held her hand in his. Stop, idiot. What the hell is wrong with you?

And still he didn't turn away.

An owl sounded far off in the woods and the spell swirling around and holding them both captive evaporated. He released her hand, and she pulled it against her body, cradling it to her chest. Clearing his throat, he stood. "That should help. Keep your wrist stable."

She nodded. "Okay."

He had to lighten the mood, blow off whatever the hell had swept them both up. Joke around with her, ass. Keep it relaxed and easy. Easy like Sunday morning. He pointed to her hand and grinned. "That's a genuine field dressing, so...I'm a little rusty, but it should hold."

"Thanks."

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Did you just thank me? Wow. And the world didn't end."

"Dumbass." She laughed again, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. Whatever that little incident was, it wasn't going to get in the way. They were going to be fine; it was nothing.

It wasn't as easy to tell himself that two weeks later. After he'd kissed her for the first time.

* * *

**The poem that serves as both the title and the beginning of this chapter is called Paracelsus by Robert Browning. It was featured in an episode of the X-Files that I rather liked called "The Field Where I Died", and I thought it worked very well here.**

**Also the idea of Bass tending to a wound of Charlie's came from a drawing that I had seen on Tumblr. I never did find the artist, but it was a beautiful piece of work, so I thank this unknown Charloe fan for the inspiration.**


	2. So Reach In And Touch My Scars

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I really appreciate the reviews. They make me happy :) **

**This is definitely a little off of canon, but for so many purposes, I need Charlie and Bass to be closer than they were at this point of the show. **

**And thanks Lemon, for your fabulous suggestion of adding a little more to the end here...you were so right.**

**As usual, I do not own Revolution, still want David Lyons...you know the rest...**

* * *

It started out simple enough. It was done for practicalities' sake. It was a survival tactic that had been used for centuries. Every good soldier knew that body temperature was used to conserve heat.

They were snuggling just to keep warm.

After the Belle Blossom affair, as it came to be known, things changed even further between them. They started exchanging stories, experiences, and anecdotes. Questions were asked: What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you? What was the strangest? The scariest? The best? Far deeper queries than what is your favorite color; although he now knew hers was green. It was during one of these chats that he revealed his biggest secret to her.

"So, my father was so pissed, I was grounded until my 13th birthday, which was actually only a week later." They both chuckled. Sitting around the campfire sharing stories with her was becoming one of his favorite pastimes. "Your turn. The stupidest thing you've ever done?"

He debated telling her. He could have used a few scenarios that easily could pass for dumb. There were definitely some things that had happened in the Republic that in hindsight were downright idiotic. Following the advice of a creepy DOD guy like Randall Flynn being one. But there was only one thing that could be considered the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

"I slept with your mother."

There was a moment of silence as she stared at him. "What?"

"One night in Philadelphia. It just kind of happened." He shrugged his shoulders. Even after all this time, he had no good excuse for it.

"It just kind of happened? How do you just kind of sleep with somebody?"

"When you're trying to forget everything around you...sometimes you'll do anything."

She stared at him across the fire. "So you know you're going to have to explain that a little more."

He sighed. Well, he'd opened the can of worms. "It was...a few months after Miles left. It was the anniversary of my family's death. With your uncle gone, I had to face that day on my own. He'd been there, every single year since it happened. Miles and I would get shit-faced drunk and talk about the old times. But that year...there was no one. No one who remembered my family. Except your mother."

"My mother knew your family?"

"Yeah, she did. My little sisters were in her wedding." He paused. This was getting so much deeper than he'd thought it would. "So was I."

"You were in my parents' wedding?"

He smiled, a sad and distant smile. "Your uncle was like my brother, Charlie. We grew up two doors away from each other. Our families were friends. Miles was best man. I was an usher."

"Miles was best man?" Her eyes widened. Obviously some of this stuff had been hidden from her. She glanced away, looking out at the dark trees. "That had to be awkward."

"Somewhat. But your uncle was determined to be there for Ben."

She sighed, but turned her sharp blue eyes back on him. "And how does this lead up to **you **and my mother?"

"The night of the anniversary of the accident, I went to Rachel's room. I had a...a bottle of whiskey, and I asked her, actually I begged her, to have a drink with me. Not for me, she hated me. But for my family, for Angie and Cynthia. To honor them." The familiar tears swam into his eyes. It still hurt; he still ached for them, all of them. "She agreed. She said for them, she would."

"Because she liked them, your parents, your sisters." It wasn't a question.

He nodded. "Yeah. We had one drink, then another and another. Before we knew it, we were talking about old times and old friends, laughing over things, old family idiosyncrasies. For just a little while, I wasn't an evil dictator running an empire and she wasn't a woman who'd indirectly caused the Blackout. We were just Rachel and Bass, two old friends, who had a lot of people in common. I don't know who moved first, how it even started, but it just..."

"Happened."

"We both regretted it. The next morning, we both immediately regretted it. It had been a huge mistake, and not just because of our...place in life. Because we'd both betrayed Miles, your father, our memories. I just wanted...I just didn't want to be alone that night, Charlie. I didn't mean for that to happen." He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. "No one knew. I told the guards I had been interrogating her. She went along with that excuse. And we never talked about it again, never brought it up. We pretended that it never happened. I never told anyone."

"Why tell me?" she asked.

He lifted his head and their eyes locked. "Because I thought we were being honest here, Charlie. You deserve the truth."

She cocked her head, as if some thought had just occurred to her. Her voice was hard when she spoke. "Do you really think I'm like my mother?"

Oh, shit. Had he really said that to her? He'd really only wanted to piss her off. "No, Charlie. You're nothing like your mother. You have this...inner strength. Few people have it. The only thing you have in common with your mother is your hatred of me."

Her eyes widened, but then she glanced away. "Yeah..."

Curiosity plagued him. The way she answered; the way she turned away. She did still hate him, right? He studied her for a minute. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, firelight glinting in her blue eyes. She really was beautiful. They'd become almost friends since the events three days ago. He...enjoyed her company.

He shook his head. He didn't need to be thinking about this. No matter how attractive he found her, Charlie was far too young for him. Most importantly, she was Miles's niece. "We should probably turn in. Another long day tomorrow."

She nodded, stepping over to her covers and crawling under them. Even though they were heading south, the weather had taken a sharp curve last night, the temperature dropping considerably. Both he and Charlie were sorely unprepared for a colder climate.

He missed the days pre-Blackout when one could just walk into any sporting goods store and buy a bedroll. And numerous other ways to keep warm while sleeping outside. Of course back then, camping had been done for fun.

Pulling his sleeping bag up, he laid down. They were far enough into seclusion that he felt safe letting them both rest and not keep watch. Besides, he slept so lightly that he would awaken as soon as his body sensed danger.

He'd been dozing for twenty minutes when a clicking noise yanked him out of slumber. He turned onto his back, eyes scanning the campsite quickly, searching for signs of trouble. Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, he sat up, looking around for the noise. Was it the horses?

He hauled himself up, walking towards the wagon. All of a sudden he stopped, realizing the sound was coming from Charlie. It was her teeth. He crept over to her and tapped her side with the toe of his boot. "Charlie?"

She moved out of her curled up fetal position onto her back, her eyes icy. "W-what?"

"You're shivering. Your teeth are chattering."

"S-s-sorry I k-kept y-ou aw-wake." Even freezing to death, she dropped that Matheson sarcasm like a champ.

"You didn't keep me awake. But you're cold."

"Th-thank y-you, C-Captain O-Ob-vious." Yeah, she'd learned that from Miles.

He had an idea. Actually, it was possibly one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. Maybe even ranking up there with 'slept with Rachel' for stupidest. But he wasn't sure what the other options were. It's not like he'd been particularly warm in his sleeping bag; it was just that after years of sleeping in the Iraqi desert, he'd gotten use to catching a few z's in bad conditions.

"There's a way to warm up, Charlie, but you're not going to like it."

"W-what?"

"You huddle up with me in the sleeping bag and we throw your blankets on top to add even more warmth." Yeah, this was such a bad idea, considering how he'd felt staring at her across the fire earlier; the heat that had built up inside of him just thinking about her. But heat was what they were going for. And he'd never be stupid enough to try anything. He liked breathing too much.

"Y-y-yeah, th-that's n-not g-g-g-gonna h-happen, M-M-onroe."

"So you'd rather freeze to death. Because that's what could happen, Charlie."

"T-th-ere's n-no w-ay..."

"Fine, but if you don't make it, I'll be sure to tell Miles how you could have saved yourself if you'd only listened to me." Why was he trying so hard to convince her? He knew it was a dumb idea, but he also knew it would work. He told himself that was why he was pushing, so he could keep her warm. But some deep down part of him knew there was more to it than that.

He hadn't gotten two steps away before she called him back. "O-okay."

"Okay. Come on." He reached out a hand and helped her out of her covers, running his hands up and down her arms. Grabbing her bedding, he guided her back to his spot. "Get in."

She jumped in, snuggling down into his bag. A bolt shot through his heart at the thought of her in his bed. Calm down, boy. This is only for survival's sake. He shook out her blankets and threw them on top of her. Then he crawled back in, spooning up against her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

She shivered for a few minutes and he slipped both of his hands over hers, pulling one back behind her towards his mouth. He breathed heavily on her frozen fingers trying to warm them. The other hand he softly rubbed, trying to return feeling to it. "Better?"

"Yeah, g-getting better."

He pulled her firmly against him, ignoring the tightening in his stomach and groin. No matter what, this was about warming her up. "Just give it a couple minutes, Charlie."

They were silent after that, just the sound of his huffing on her hand and her short breaths as she slowly regained heat. Although the cold was keeping her tense, he knew his presence so close to her wasn't helping.

He could tell the exact moment when she fell asleep; her entire body relaxed against his. He lowered her hand in front of her, tightening his arms around her. "Sleep, Charlie."

He closed his eyes and followed her into dreamland a few minutes later.

* * *

They got used to it. Sleeping side by side, wrapped in each other's arms. It got to the point where he didn't even ask anymore. When the time came to lie down for the night, she crawled right into his sleeping bag and waited for him to spoon up against her.

But he found out Charlie was a turner, too. More than half the time, he woke to find her facing him, her arms around his back and her head nestled into his chest. They were fully clothed, but it didn't stop his body from reacting. However, the embarrassment of waking up to morning wood ended for both of them after the first few nights. With the rising of the sun, Charlie would also wordlessly get up and head off into the woods for a while, allowing him plenty of time to deal with the problem on his own. He never told her that, more than once, she was the fantasy that tipped him over the edge.

But that's all it was. A fantasy. For two weeks, they traveled, made camp, ate, sat around telling stories, and slept in each other's arms. Until the morning of the day they would reach Willoughby. In that short span between waking from dreams and getting back onto the road, the final change in their relationship occurred.

There would never be a chance to turn back.

He would like to say it just sort of happened. But that was the way he described that horrible night with Rachel. The truth was it had been building for a long time with Charlie. Possibly since the day in Philadelphia when she'd faced down a gun. She'd been so regal and noble that he'd been unable to pull his eyes from her. Now that he knew her, had spent time with her, he found himself drawn in like a moth to a flame. And unlike with her mother, there was an actual sexual tension, a real attraction. He'd never been attracted to Rachel.

Not that Rachel Matheson wasn't a beautiful woman, she was. But she'd always been too cold for him. When Miles had first been interested, he'd wondered what his best friend saw in the sharp blonde with the icy eyes and the cool demeanor. Bass liked fire in a woman, and Rachel had none of that. They'd been friends back then, good friends, but other than one clandestine night in Philadelphia, there had never been anything more between them. Of all of Miles's girls, she was the one he never had an interest in.

The only thing Charlie had inherited from her mother was the icy blue eyes. Charlie's eyes held ice, but her entire being screamed fire and passion and heat. And that combination had always been dangerous for Bass. Add that to her tender heart and warrior instincts and he was a goner. He should have realized that. He should have realized that the night in Philly when she'd faced down Strausser. She'd been magnificent.

He tried fighting it; he really did. But after nearly two weeks of sleeping with her tucked against his body, all the fight was gone. He wanted her, and they were getting closer and closer to Willoughby. Once they reached it, this would all be gone. She would no longer need him to keep her warm at night; she would no longer need him at all. And he'd be left alone once again, trying to convince his best friend to let him back in enough to help. He'd see her around, even fight at her side. But what they had right now would end the second they rode into Willoughby.

She'd never sleep in his arms again. He dreaded the thought.

But he could never do anything to change it.

So when they woke that Wednesday morning, the day they would finally reconnected with Miles and Rachel, he had no intention of making a move. It just...sort of happened.

It started out completely innocent. As usual, he woke before she did; she followed soon after, stretching out and nuzzling into his neck. She'd done it many times before, only to rise a few minutes later and disappear into the woods, allowing him to take care of his morning...problem. Only this time, it didn't happen. Her nose brushed against his beard, then she pulled back, opened her eyes, and stared up at him.

They laid there for a couple moments, time standing still as they gazed at each other. Over the past two weeks, they'd developed an uncanny ability to hold conversations without speaking. He apologized to her, for everything, without saying a word. Her eyes thanked him, for everything, without ever opening her mouth. And then it happened.

She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss right above his upper lip. It could have ended there, been just a sweet chaste kiss between two enemies who had discovered a remarkable amount of common ground and become friends against all odds. Maybe it should have ended right there. But he couldn't let it.

He lifted his hand, caressing her cheek, then tugged her towards him as he pressed a kiss to her temple, then to her nose, then in the identical spot she'd done with him. Eyes still locked, their foreheads touching, she tenderly kissed him on the mouth, pulling away mere seconds after their lips touched. He returned the gesture. And it went like that for a minute or two, back and forth, gentle little kisses, lip to lip. Until he couldn't take it anymore.

Done with the teasing, he pressed his lips to hers and held them there, waiting, giving her every opportunity to push him away. She didn't. Taking it as consent, he gently moved his mouth, testing the texture of her lips, the softness of them, the firmness. It was a subtle motion and still easy-going; he wanted to give her the chance to stop. But when he felt her respond to him, his shaky control snapped.

A small whimper escaped her as he pulled her closer, his mouth becoming more aggressive. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, begging for entrance. She complied, her tongue darting out to meet his. The rest of her began to react as well; her arms tightened around his back, one hand fisting in his shirt, the other slipping up to the back of his neck, her fingers twisting in the soft curls there.

She moaned again, tilting her head and allowing him full access. God, he was starving. She tasted of sweetness and light and innocence. And so many other things he hadn't experienced in more years than he could count. She felt like freedom, redemption; she felt like...home.

Suddenly, they both seemed to realize what was happening and the kiss lost its fire, turning affectionate again. And he sensed that he was in deep trouble. Kissing her brought out passion and yearning, but it also caused a tenderness to well up in him. He recognized it of course; he just hadn't felt it for another human being since Shelly. Emma had tugged at it a bit last year, but she hadn't broken all the way through. But Charlie...Charlie had pummeled her way right into his heart and set up shop.

He was lost. Or maybe he had been lost, and now he was finally found.

The kiss didn't abruptly end; it slowly tapered off, returning to how it had started. Soft little kisses, back and forth, until she finally pulled away and rested her forehead against his cheek, her nose nuzzling his beard. He held her silently, neither saying a word. Just being. Just resting in the small refuge they'd found themselves in. Away from family and friends and duty and bloodshed.

When she finally did lean back, her eyes were still closed, as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. It was beautiful, sexy, and adorably cute all at the same time.

"We reach Willoughby today," she said, her eyes still shut.

"Yeah, I know."

"Miles probably won't be happy to see you."

"That's an understatement, Charlie."

"Probably be happy to see me though."

"Of course he will. Who wouldn't be?" Her crystal blue eyes opened then, locking on his.

"It's going to be different going back. Seeing everyone. Sleeping in a bed." She didn't say the word alone, but it hung in the air regardless. "If Miles goes for this, we're probably going to have to hide you. Those bounty hunters wanted you alive, but God knows what they'd do to you if they found you."

"Worried for my safety, Charlie?"

"I'm just saying I didn't drag you all the way back to Willoughby just to have you get arrested."

"Well, thanks for the concern. I'm sure I'll find somewhere to hole up."

Her fingers fiddled with his beard; he had a suspicion that she really liked his facial hair. "I probably won't see you as often."

"No, probably not."

"It's gonna be weird not to see your mug every day." Those were words she would have easily used in disgust against him a month ago. Now they were said playfully.

"Yeah, Charlie. It'll be weird for me too." Jesus, he would miss her...miss this. They were in their own world here, and he found he really didn't want to give it up.

"I never thanked you for saving my life. I should have. Those men in that bar, they would have...the thing is I don't think they would have killed me. Not right away. Not until they...Anyway, it would have been worse than dying." Back in the Republic, he'd heard horror stories of groups of men in the Plains Nation kidnapping and tying up women just to rape them over and over. Then killing them when they were done. Just the thought of that happening to Charlie boiled his blood. "So thank you, for saving me from them...Bass."

She had never called him Bass before. He found he liked the way it rolled off her tongue. "You're welcome, Charlie."

Her ice blue eyes met his again. And the compassion he saw in them softened her next words. Words he knew were coming; words he knew were necessary. "This can't ever happen again."

"No, it can't. Consider it a thank you, amongst friends. We saved each other. I mean, you did save me from those women after all." She had saved him from far more than that, but that was something she would never know. He pulled her forward, and pressed his forehead to hers_._ "And you are my friend, Charlotte. I don't forget my friends."

She stared at him, her eyes fiercely intense. "Neither do I."

Her admittance that they were friends sent his heart sailing. Her hand still rested on the back of his head, playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so much warmth and comfort. He didn't want to let her go.

She seemed to sense that, turning her head to the side and resting it against his chest. "Five more minutes."

"Whatever you want, Charlie." They clung to one another, desperately trying to hold on to a moment that was slipping away.

* * *

They made it back to Willoughby without further incident. Miles had of course been pissed to see him, but he'd eventually come around. Rachel had taken it far worse. Still, when he wound up on death row in a Texas prison, he didn't believe either one of his old friends had turned him in. Although after Miles's visit, he wasn't so sure he could trust his old buddy as far as he could throw him. After all they'd been through together; after Miles knew how hard he'd taken Shelly and the baby's death, he'd still hid his remaining child from him. Yes, he'd gone off the rails, but what if a family connection, a little compassion from the people who were supposed to love him, could have pulled him back.

"Monroe, you've got company." The guard called him out of the bank vault. He'd only had two last requests. His next and final visitor had arrived.

Charlie stood there, her eyes falling on him as soon as he stepped into view. She looked...she looked so sad. But so damn beautiful. A mask shadowed her face as she turned to the guard. "I want to see him alone."

"Can't do that."

She yanked the man forward with a tug on his collar. "He destroyed half my family. I **want** to see him alone."

"Those are our orders."

She lifted her tank top, exposing the taught, tan skin of her stomach. God, she was breathtaking. Spinning around, she patted around her own middle. "I have no weapons. There's nowhere to hide them here. You can wait just outside the door. I can't kill him, and I'm certainly not about to let him out."

"Boots."

She glanced at her feet, then knelt down to unbuckle and pull off her boots. She handed them to the guard. "Now will you get the hell out of here?"

The man glanced at his companion, nodding his head to the door. As he exited, he looked back at her. "Don't kill him."

She turned back to Bass, rolling her eyes. As soon as the door slammed shut, her entire demeanor changed, and she was across the room, throwing her arms around him in a hug. He held her tightly, feeling the tension in her body.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes glistening, her voice shaky. "We tried to get you out. Miles and I, we tried. But this vault..."

"I knew the crazy son of a bitch would try something," he muttered. He was still angry and hurt by his best friend's behavior. But his heart felt lighter knowing Miles had at least attempted to save his life. He gazed at Charlie. "I didn't know you would help."

Her eyes saddened even further. "Of course I helped, Bass. I don't forget my friends, remember?"

He should have known that; she'd flat out lied to Miles when they first got back to Willoughby, swearing to her uncle that she wouldn't let him lay a hand on her.

He laid his palm against her cheek. "I remember."

"We just, we couldn't. We have no way to break into this vault...we don't know how to get you out..." She was panicking, her arms trembling.

He touched his forehead to hers, trying to soothe her. "It's all right, Charlie. Calm down. It's all right."

"No, it's not, Bass. They're going to execute you...you can't die."

"I'm guilty, Charlie. Of everything they've accused me of. I deserve this."

"No, you don't!" Dear God, how had it ever come to her defending him?

"Charlie-"

She cut him off, her voice rising in anger. "I've done terrible things. Miles, my mother. Everyone deserves a second chance, Bass."

He stroked her hair, his eyes taking in everything, burning her into his memory for all eternity. "I got a second chance. I got you home safely. I made the most of it, Charlie."

Tears welled up then in her big baby blues, spilling over before she could stop them. "You can't die. You just can't."

The tears she was shedding for him started his own eyes watering. He placed his hands on her cheeks. "Charlie, I'm sorry. To you more than to anyone else. For Ben. I didn't want your father to die. Miles was my best friend, and I didn't have an older brother. Ben...was the closest thing I had to that. I loved him."

"Bass..." They were clutching each other now; both crying for a man they loved.

He sighed heavily. "And Danny. I'm so sorry for Danny. It was so hard losing Miles...and I'm so sorry that I took your brother away from you. If I could do anything, Charlie, I would give Danny back to you. But I can't. All I can do is pay for the crime."

"Bass..." She buried her face in his neck, pulling him tighter as sobs racked from deep inside her. "I...I forgive you."

All the air left his lungs and they collapsed to the ground, him yanking her onto his lap. "Oh, Charlie...Then Texas can't hurt me, Charlie. I'm already saved."

Straddling his legs, she rested her head over his heart, their arms still wrapped firmly around each other. "Thank you for saving my life, Bass. Thank you for watching over me. Thank you for keeping me warm. You saved me in the Tower, too. Thank you...for being my friend."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I was in far more need of a friend than you. And you saved me, too."

"I didn't really save your life." A laugh popped up through her tears. "I got you away from crazy women."

"Well, you did stab that guy. The one who attacked me after we got out of that hostage situation."

"You would have gotten him on your own."

"Yeah, but you did it." He smiled down at her as she lifted her head. A genuine smile, full of the warmth and tenderness he felt.

She grinned back at him, the same honesty in her smile. Then her face crumpled again. "I don't want you to go."

A year ago, if someone had told him Charlotte Matheson would be weeping at his imminent demise, he would have laughed in their face. "It's my time."

"But we just got home. There's so much more we have to do..." She rubbed at her eyes, and he wondered if she realized she'd just called Willoughby home. For both of them. "So much more we have to...say...all we could do...all we could have done...you and I could have done..."

"Oh, Charlie." She was having trouble getting the words out, and he cradled her close, steeling his voice as he tried to be strong for her. He stood up, pulling her with him. "It's time. You're a damn good fighter, Charlie. You and Miles and your mom, you're going to beat these bastards. You're gonna be all right. All of you. Now...kiss me goodbye. Kiss me goodbye and walk away. Just walk away."

She choked back a sob, but did as he asked. Her mouth met his in a fiery kiss, filled with a million unspoken words. Their bodies pressed close, his arms around her waist, hers around his back, hands grasping at whatever part of the other they could reach. This time her tongue pressed against his lips, plunging into his mouth when he opened for her. Their tongues dueled, meeting in his mouth, then hers and back again. He could taste the salt in her tears as they streamed down her cheeks, slipping onto their lips as they kissed.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a gesture that had become so normal between them. "You're gonna be all right, Charlie. You're going to go on. Have a good life. You'll win this war, you and Miles. My two best friends. You're going to make the world a better place, Charlie. The way we always wanted it to be."

"Bass..." She sighed against his cheek.

"You'll have a long and happy life. You're gonna have it all. Kids...you're going to meet someone, someone that you're going to love with all your heart."

She slid her face along his cheek, nuzzling his beard and jaw with her nose, her lips softly kissing his earlobe. "I could have loved you."

His heart soared. Damn, he didn't realize that anyone could feel that much pain and pleasure in the same moment. He wanted her to have an amazing life with a man she loved. How much did it hurt that it could never be him?

She pulled back, kissing him gently one more time, before turning away and walking out of the vault.

Marching down the main drag of Willoughby, his arms and legs in shackles, he held his head high, refusing to allow any of these Patriots the satisfaction of seeing him break. He'd made his peace with Charlie; he no longer gave a damn about Texas or anyone else.

That's when he saw her. Standing in front of him, watching him make that final walk to his death. Her chin was up in defiance, a look he loved on her. It was the way he'd first seen her in Philadelphia. It was the way he would see her for the last time.

When he reached her, he stopped, gazing down at her. The air she gave off was one of strength, but he could see the sorrow in her eyes. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her, things that would soon be lost forever. But they said what they needed to in the vault. So he said the simplest thing he could; she would know what he really meant. "Take care of your uncle, kid."

He tore away and moved along, forcing the pain he'd seen in her eyes out of his mind. He was going to die; he would take those blue eyes to the grave with him.

The rest went by in a blur. All of it happened so quickly, the blink of an eye really. As he was strapped into the chair, he discovered he really didn't want to die. He had things to do, things he needed to atone for. Damn it, he didn't want to leave her. Not now...not when things between them were so good. God, forgive him, he never wanted it all to end this way.

He apologized to Rachel, to Gene, to Miles, to Charlie, to whoever was listening. He felt the needle pierce his skin, felt the drugs start to enter his system, and he fought against it. It was amazing really, how much he wanted to cling to his life. He'd expected pain and there was none, but he felt himself getting sleepy, so very tired. And he still fought it. Fought dying with everything in him, his body thrashing against the darkness. He kept his eyes open, kept focusing on the light.

Still alive, he was still alive...Miles...so sorry...Charlie...darkness was coming…no. Charlie! God, Charlie...forgive me...Then he heard her voice...I forgive you, Bass. She had said those words to him. She had made everything okay again. Charlie...love you...Charlotte...

* * *

Charlie...love you...Charlotte...

There was a distant pounding...what was that banging? His head felt thick and heavy as he strove to rouse himself. What the hell had happened...

The banging continued and the hazy curtain of sleep drew back a little further. He was in a bed, a warm body next to him. Charlie...where the hell were they?

He turned on his side, trying to focus on the woman sleeping beside him. His mind still foggy, he reached out and brushed the hair back off her face. "Charlotte-"

The words died on his lips. Even though the room was dark, he could tell the hair running through his fingers was dark brown. The face was...

"Well, you weren't calling me Charlotte last night, Mr. President. But I'll be whoever you want me to be." She smiled and snuggled closer to him.

"Maria?" His voice sounded thick and gravelly.

"Yes, Sir." Her hand snuck under the covers, reaching for him.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her from touching him. It wasn't possible; she couldn't be here. Maria Martin had been one of his mistresses in Philadelphia. But she was dead. Just like everyone else in his town.

What the hell was going on? And where the hell was Charlie?

The pounding on the door echoed through the room again. He glanced over at it, his eyes surveying the room, and he suddenly knew exactly where he was. A chill ran up Bass's spine. His voice was shaky as he answered. "Yeah? What is it?"

He was in his bedroom in Philadelphia.

"Mr. President," a voice shouted through the door. "Miles Matheson is in town."

* * *

**The chapter titles are lyrics from the song Any Other Way by Tenth Avenue North.**

**So, yeah, I figured that Bass might have been close to Ben, not like Miles, but still looking up to him as a big brother. And if they grew up that close to each other, maybe their families were friends. So I would think Ben would ask Bass to be in his wedding and ask Bass's sisters to be in it too. **

**And snuggling together to keep warm...yeah, I went there.**


	3. Know The Price I Paid For Your Heart

**Hey, just want to thank everyone again for all the reviews. I really love getting them. **

**I still don't own Revolution...or David Lyons...how sad is that ;)...**

* * *

He needed a few minutes to process things.

Bass shook his head. The last thing he remembered was being strapped to a table in Texas, a poisonous liquid pumping into his veins. And now he was...back in Philadelphia...in his bedroom...and Miles was in town.

Jesus, he really was dead. Because there was no other explanation for how he'd wound up in his old city, as the President of the Republic, while the events of over half a year ago played out.

So what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He'd already sent Maria away, telling the guards to get her back home safely, and to give him a few moments to dress. It felt weird to him, so weird and wrong, to wake up in bed with a woman who wasn't Charlie. So he'd gotten rid of the brunette, ignoring the pout she shot him. Besides he had far greater things to worry about.

Staring at his closet, he cringed at the array of different uniforms hanging at the ready. Jesus, had he really been this self-absorbed? What he wouldn't give right now for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He reached for the casual navy; at least that one was understated. Still, the very idea of putting on a uniform he had come to loathe in the last year curled his toes. But for some reason he couldn't even begin to remember, he had no street clothes in his suite, so his options were extremely limited.

He dressed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed to strap on his boots. He needed a moment to think before leaving this room; a moment to figure out what the hell was happening to him. He ran a hand down his face, curling it to stroke his...aw, Christ, the beard was gone. He'd gotten so damn used to his face with that thing; being without it was going to suck. Oh, God, if the beard was gone than that meant...

Only one candle was lit, so he'd dressed mainly in darkness. The thought of what he might find on his own body hadn't even occurred to him. He stretched out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. And there it was, in perfect black ink. His Monroe militia tattoo, the one he'd burnt off nearly six months ago.

He felt the laughter bubble up in his throat before he could stop it. But what erupted from his mouth was more a terrified whimper than a laugh. He rested his head against his hand, fingers covering his eyes as he breathed deeply in an attempt to calm down. Ok, this was happening. And there were only two explanations.

Either he was really dead and this was some form of hell; a hell of his own making that would force him to live in the Republic for the rest of eternity. Or...somehow, somewhere, the universe had gotten a few wires crossed and sent him back in time. He had no idea which was the truth, but he needed to pull it together before someone came back to look for him again.

He stood up, his mind rehashing what had been going on a year ago in Philadelphia. If this was really playing out, he had to know specifics. So Miles had been found; he remembered that, remembered some of his guards waking him so he could be briefed by...Major Neville.

Well, he had more than a few choice words for that son of a bitch. He started for the door, prepared to break every bone in the traitor's body. He forced his brain to recall what Neville had told him so many months ago. Miles was here, and Tom had mentioned leaving for the house in Boston. Bass had gotten pissed at the mere suggestion of him turning tail and running. He'd told him to find Miles, but instead Neville had returned with...Miles's travelling companions.

Charlie!

Dear God, Charlie was here. She was in Philly. A smile crossed his lips, and his heart began to pound. Suddenly, his mind replayed everything; all the events that had happened and were about to happen. What the hell was he going to do? How could he get his friends out of this?

Wait a minute...how could he get his friends out...he was the goddamned President. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. He could do **whatever **he wanted. He paused for another minute. My God, he could do whatever the hell he wanted!

He could fix it all; he could make everything better; he still had the chance to bring this Republic back from the brink...he could stop Randall Flynn...he could keep Philly and Atlanta from being bombed. He could yank his damn head out of his own damn ass and turn things around.

He could...he could stop Danny Matheson from dying.

Rubbing his hand over his chest, he struggled to breathe as that knowledge hit him. He could give Charlie her brother back. "Charlie..."

He could see her again, his Charlie...he felt tears in his eyes and chuckled at himself. Only a few hours had passed and yet he missed her so much. As he'd felt the darkness overtaking him, he'd fought to hold onto her face, never expecting to see her again. But now she was here.

He was going to make things right. It was too late for him to help Ben, didn't that knowledge sting, but he would not allow anything to happen to anyone else in Charlie's family. He was General Monroe, President of the Monroe Republic, but he had a secret. He was also Bass Monroe, best friend of Charlie and Miles Matheson, a man who gave a shit about the people he cared for. A man who had been forgiven by the only one on the earth who mattered. The woman he loved.

He had so damn much to do. But first he had to fake a few people out. And he could be one hell of an actor when he needed to be. 

* * *

"General Monroe, sir. I assume you've been informed of Miles Matheson's...arrival in town." He nodded his head in that formal manner he always had. It had always pissed Bass the hell right off, but he'd needed a man like Neville back then. Now things were different.

"I have, thank you, Tom." He turned in the direction of his office, the other man following just a step behind. "And we're sure it's him?"

"Wheatley is one of our best agents. He sent a coded message yesterday saying he was bringing in Miles Matheson through the subway tunnels."

"And yet you found this Wheatley dead?" He knew the answer; he just liked to see Tom squirm. At Neville's nod, he continued. "Well then, how good could he be?"

Neville's eyes widened. "Against Miles. How good is anyone?"

True, jackass. Miles would kick this pain in the ass all the way to the Plains Nation and back. But Bass had other plans at the moment. "So Miles is in town."

"Sir, maybe you should think about heading to the house in Boston. Just for a few days."

It took Bass every effort not to roll his eyes. Instead, he fixed Tom with the hardest glare he had. "Run away...is that what you're telling me?"

He could see Neville backtracking in his head. "I'm just trying to be cautious."

"I don't run." Yeah, the son of a bitch was still afraid of him. They hadn't yet reached the time when the dickhead felt secure enough to steal his troops right out from under him. Wait, damn it, how the hell did the rest of this conversation go. Something about Rachel and the border war. Yeah, none of that was important just yet. Right now, he just wanted Charlie. "Just find him, Tom. Are we clear?"

Neville nodded as Bass walked away. He knew where they were. They'd been found hiding in Kipling's house last time. He'd already sent his personal guards to locate them and bring them back safely, Kip included. He'd also sent for Rachel out at the factory. Let Neville go on a wild goose chase for a little while. He had something else to do.

The knock on the office door ten minutes later jarred Bass out of his reverie. He'd been walking around the room, touching the things that had always brought him such pleasure. A vase here, a statue there. It was truly beautiful stuff. But he found he really hadn't missed any of it. "Come in."

He turned to the man who entered, the man he'd sent for. Now this, this was something he'd missed. He swallowed thickly; the old son of a bitch was a sight for sore eyes. "Jeremy."

"Mr. President."

"Shut the door, would you?"

The man did as he asked then came and sat in his usual chair in front of Bass's desk. Bass himself leaned against the front of it; so far, he'd been too uncomfortable sitting behind the desk for more than five minutes. "Can I ask why you sent for me, Sir?"

"Of course. I assume you've heard that Miles is here?"

Baker nodded. "Yes, Sir."

He stared at Jeremy, tamping down an overwhelming urge to give the guy a big old bear hug. "You know I want him alive."

"That's always been the standing order. I just wonder why that is, General?"

Bass mentally crossed his fingers. The last time he'd been so very wrong about Jeremy Baker; he just prayed that this time he was right. "Because I refuse to kill my best friend."

There was silence for a few moments. Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "Do you want me to do this, Sir?"

"No, Jeremy. I refuse to let anyone kill my best friend." The man's eyes lit up with understanding. "Tell me, Captain Baker, do you feel this Republic is living up to its full potential?"

"I, uh..." Talk about a deer caught in the headlights.

"This isn't a trick question." He didn't want to scare the man. Jesus, had his people really been this terrified of him? "Is this what you thought the Republic would be when it was first formed? Is this what you had in mind?"

"Sir, I...I don't know what you want from me." Jeremy swallowed thickly.

"I want the truth. Friend to friend. I want you to speak freely, and I don't want you to be afraid of the consequences."

Captain Baker looked him straight in the eye and sighed heavily. "Then, no. I didn't expect it to get so big. I didn't expect to conquer half the United States. And I didn't expect...we were supposed to help people."

Jeremy hung his head and Bass knew he was worried he'd just signed his own death warrant. If he'd still been General Monroe, he probably would have shot his friend, or cowardly assigned the task to someone else. But Bass could never kill a man who'd spoken all the things he himself had been feeling. Bass could never kill a man who was truly a loyal friend. "You're right, Jeremy. Nothing is as it should be."

"Sir, I didn't mean to-" Baker jumped up, trying to undo the damage he thought he'd done. But Bass reassured him with a pat on the back.

"Jeremy. Would you have my back...if I told you I want to make some changes?"

The captain just stared at him, and Bass got the distinct feeling he was being read. "I'm loyal to you, Mr. President. You and Miles saved my life. I don't like the idea of him dying either. But my loyalty is to you and this Republic. I'm behind you whatever you do, Sir."

Bass smiled. "And what do you think of Major Neville? Do you trust him?"

The next words out of Jeremy's mouth would tell Bass exactly which way this was going to go. A snake in the grass would tell him yes and follow whatever his president wanted; a real friend and trusted ally would tell him the truth. "Not even as far as I can throw him."

So he had been right about Jeremy. "So if I told you to take a few men, men that belong to you completely, and arrest Major Neville, you would do so?"

Baker was silent for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes, then a huge grin broke out across his face. "Yes, Sir, I believe I would."

"And Will Strausser?"

Jeremy sighed. "I wouldn't leave him alone in a room with my dog."

"So you think having him in charge of prisoners wasn't one of our better decisions." Bass paused. No, no more passing the blame. "One of my better decisions."

"No, Sir, I don't."

"And if I told you that Will Strausser had to be put down like a rabid dog, you would agree?"

"There are some men this world is better off without," Jeremy said. And the two of them shared a look that spoke volumes. Once, before this whole thing started, they'd been pretty good friends.

"We're going to change things around here. And you are the only officer in this militia that I feel I can trust." He clasped his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, squeezing it in a friendly gesture. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The only other one I trust...is Miles. I need him alive, Jeremy. For so many reasons." First off, Miles couldn't die. He was still his best friend and brother. Second, Charlie would never forgive him if something happened to her beloved uncle. And third, Miles knew where the hell his son was.

"I understand, General Monroe."

Bass cringed. Charlie sometimes mocked him with that title when she was pissed. He found he really didn't enjoy hearing it anymore. But he'd have to put up with it for a while yet. Although not among his friends. "Let's say we drop the formal titles, Jeremy. At least out of earshot. You know my name."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "Bass, what do you need me to do?'

"I need you to arrest Tom Neville."

"We need charges."

"We have charges. Treason. Jason Neville is still alive. And he's working with the rebels."

Jeremy's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

Oh yeah, he was sure. "Yes. Neville's been lying to us the entire time."

"Well, that'll work," Jeremy said in that acerbic way of his. Bass had missed that. The two closest friends he had in the militia had always managed to make sarcasm an art form. Not that he had missed out on that trait himself. Still, few men could perfect it the way Miles did. He needed to find him before this came to a head. He couldn't handle hearing those words come out of Miles's mouth again...you're nothing to me.

"I thought it might." The irony of the situation was he was going to do his level best to find Jason and get him back to the Republic. But not to have him arrested. The kid was a good soldier with a good heart. Jason Neville was exactly the sort of man he wanted in his militia from now on. "Bring Tom back here as quietly as you can. And put him in the basement cells. I want a word."

"Yes, Sir." Bass rolled his eyes. "Sorry, old habits and all that."

"Listen, I want him under constant guard, again only men you trust. I don't want anyone to speak to him that isn't me, you, or Miles, you understand?" Jeremy nodded. "And I want Julia Neville under surveillance as well."

"Julia?"

"Yeah, I just have a feeling." Bass had no hard evidence against her. True, she had escaped with Tom to Atlanta the last time, but that was nothing strange; most wives would cut and run with their husbands. There was just something about the woman that raised his hackles. "You have your orders, Captain Baker."

Jeremy tipped his head, turned, and started for the door before Bass stopped him. "Oh, when they're brought in…Pittman, Nora, and Charlotte Matheson, I want to know about it right away."

"Bass...Sir, the girl is already in a cell." Jeremy looked uneasy.

"What do you mean the girl...Charlie...Charlie's here?" He rushed over to Baker.

"Charlotte Matheson was taken to a room with her mother and brother."

Bass's face darkened, a shadow of how terrifying he could still be. Charlie had alleviated that, but if she was in any danger, General Monroe wouldn't hesitate to reappear. "On whose orders?"

"Well...yours, Sir." Jeremy shook his head. "You didn't give those orders."

"I damn well did not. Who has her, Jeremy?"

Jeremy paused for a moment, his face resigned. "Strausser."

Oh my God...Charlie... 

* * *

He bolted down three flights of stairs, probably scaring half of his guards and staff. Things were playing out differently. Last time, he'd had them taken to the factory, where he had Rachel working on the amplifier. Now they were here, probably in the basement interrogation rooms. Christ, if that son of a bitch hurt one hair on Charlie's head...

He ran until he reached Strausser's favorite room, forcing himself to slow down and breathe. It wouldn't do to have the President hurrying in all out of breath; he needed to appear formidable and imposing. But not to the prisoners, not this time.

What had he said to her; he racked his brain to remember. He introduced himself...nice to meet you, Charlotte...told her that Rachel had killed a man who was her friend. And my God, he'd given an order to kill both Charlie and Danny if necessary.

Entering the room, he surveyed the scene quickly, his heart drumming in his chest. Whatever he had already changed was rippling through. Things had already progressed further than the last time. Rachel was squirming as guards held her while Strausser pointed a gun at Charlie's head. The man was dead. Bass swallowed thickly. "So...what have I missed?"

"Sir," Strausser started. "We've found an excellent way to have Mrs. Matheson complete the amplifier."

Bass's blue eyes scanned over Charlie. She hadn't been harmed, he could tell, but she was tense and nervous, that beautiful defiant look on her face. He'd wanted to see that expression again, but not like this. God, he just wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. But this wasn't his Charlie, not really. Not yet.

"Guards, release Mrs. Matheson." There was hesitation. "Now! And get out."

Everyone left the room, leaving him alone with the Mathesons and Strausser. He'd expected Strausser to lower his gun as soon as he'd given the order, but the son of a bitch still had that damn thing trained on Charlie. Well, actually Rachel since she'd leapt in front of her daughter. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"Are you questioning me, Captain? Lower your weapon."

Still Strausser did not. "But, Sir, this will work."

"I gave you a direct order, Captain Strausser. Lower your weapon!" What the hell was going on here? Strausser had always been a good little lapdog, heeling the second Bass said the word. Was it possible the fucker had always had a defiant streak in him? Had he really been this blind about his own militia? And what the hell else had Strausser done without his knowledge? "Captain, I am warning you."

"I'm sorry, General. As soon as Miles Matheson gets involved in anything, you tend to lose your focus. You'll thank me for this later, Sir."

Bass whipped his gun out, pointing it at Strausser's head. "I said...lower your weapon."

"Sir...this is necessary."

Psychotic little dickhead! The guy really was insane, and he'd tossed him right into a position of power. Well, he was straightening things out, starting with Will Strausser. He'd been right when he told Jeremy the man needed put down. "I'm giving you to the count of three. And I will shoot you."

He thought for one second that Strausser was going to comply, then he noticed pressure being applied to the trigger of the gun. Bass fired and Strausser went down, dead before he even hit the floor. Rachel gasped, throwing her arms wide in front of her children, her eyes huge as she stared at him.

He lifted his hands, putting the gun away. "Rachel, I'm not going to hurt you. Any of you. I just need you to listen."

Her lip curled in disgust. "And what could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear, Bass?"

He ran through everything in his head. Where were they at? What had happened? What was going to happen? "I know you hate me. I know you think I'm a son of a bitch. And you're right. I am...but I'm trying to make things better, I swear to God."

Rachel let out a cold laugh. "Really, and I'm just supposed to believe what, Bass? That you had some giant epiphany and you're changing your ways."

Could there be a better description for what had happened to him? Yeah, he'd had a giant epiphany, starting with nukes falling on his city and ending with the Republic of Texas sticking a hypodermic needle in his arm. His eyes moved to Charlie. But the biggest change had come by falling in love with her daughter.

Rachel must have seen the hunger in his gaze. "Get your eyes off of her, you bastard."

Bass shot her a sad smile. "Believe me, Rachel, I would kill myself before I'd harm Charlie. Or Danny. Please...just give me a chance to explain."

"I don't want-"

"Mom," Charlie interjected. That rebelliousness was back in her icy blue eyes and directed at him. She didn't believe him, or trust a word he was going to say. But she didn't know he'd already kept one of his promises to her. He swore to her he would never let Will Strausser hold a gun on her again; not without putting a bullet in his head. "Let's just hear what he has to say."

"Thank you, Charlie." Her chin tilted up, like it offended her that he spoke her name. God, they had such a long way to go. This beautiful creature was his Charlie and yet...not. There was still a softness in her eyes that the Charlie in the future had lost; that Danny's death and a trip to the Tower had erased. So help him God, he wanted her to keep that small bit of innocence. "I know I have so much to apologize for. And I know those apologies won't do a damn thing. But all I can do from here on in is fix the damage I've done."

"And how do you intend to do that, Bass? You can't bring back Ben," Rachel said.

"No, I can't. But I loved him, too, Rachel. And I never wanted him to die."

"No, you just wanted him brought here to use against me. And instead you brought my son."

Christ, she was going to be tough. Just as against him now as she was in Willoughby. Well, she had every right. Now that he'd opened his eyes and really seen what Strausser was like, he was afraid to know what the bastard had actually done to her. He'd left her alone with a monster like Strausser; he'd condoned her torture, but Jesus, had more happened? There was a rule against rape in the Republic, but seeing the insolence Strausser had just shown, had that stupid little written rule done a goddamned thing? "I'm sorry I let Strausser anywhere near you, Rachel."

Rachel's eyes widened, a sheen of tears covering them. "Wh-what?"

"It was so wrong of me. And there is nothing I can say or do that can make it any better." He glanced down at the dead man. Amazing how they all just seemed to forget about the corpse in the room. That was no more than Strausser deserved. "But he will never hurt your daughter, your son, no one, ever again. I'm cleaning the militia out. I'm finding and court martialing any man found in violation of the rules that have been written. I don't want this in my Republic anymore."

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Rachel faltered. "And Tom Neville?"

"He's been arrested." All three of them seemed surprised at that news. He looked specifically at the boy. "I need you, Danny, to tell me exactly who else was involved in the death of your father. I also need to know if any of those men hurt you on your way here."

The kid's blue eyes brightened, and he nodded. "Okay."

"Rachel, I also apologize for putting you in the position you were in last night."

Charlie's eyes shot over to her mother. "Mom, what's he talking about?"

He would not tell Charlie this time. He wouldn't gleefully toss out the harsh news that her mother had shoved a screwdriver through a man's chest. After all, it was still his fault; he'd put her in that position where she had no other options. But that would be Rachel's secret to share. "I put her in a very bad spot. She had to make a bad decision, Charlie."

"Like which of her children to choose to live?" That brazenness was so much a part of her. He loved her all the more for it and inappropriately found it incredibly sexy. Curb yourself, dickhead. She doesn't even know you.

"I didn't give that order, Charlie." Not this time, anyway. "Believe me. I did not want Strausser to hold a gun on you."

Her eyes locked on his, searching for the truth. The way she had learned to on their journey together. What she saw there must have convinced her. She nodded curtly, her eyes scanning him up and down. Taking his measure, he supposed. She'd been told he was nothing but a bastard; he hoped he could prove that wrong.

He glanced to the work table in the room. The amplifier had been brought over from the factory. "Rachel, I do need you to do something."

She caught where he was looking and rolled her eyes. "Why would I ever think you would change? You want me to finish that damn thing for you, don't you?"

He turned to her. "No, I want you to destroy it."

"Excuse me?"

"Randall Flynn is on his way here."

Rachel seemed horrified. "What?"

"Who's Randall Flynn?" Charlie asked.

"He's a man with very bad intentions. He can't get a hold of this thing, Rachel. He wants access to tanks and helicopters. He wants to turn the power back on." It really helped knowing all this stuff in advance. At least this way, he could keep his people protected and keep himself from becoming the world's largest patsy.

"That's impossible," Charlie said.

The look on her mother's face said differently. But he already knew that. "He's trying to gain access to the Tower, Rachel. With my connections, he could get in. But we don't want that to happen, do we?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then will you destroy it for me."

This one simple request must have convinced the woman who hated him most that he was trying to turn over a new leaf. Or that they at least had a common goal in mind. "Yes. And the pendants?"

"Their range is small, right? Maybe we can use them for something better than weapons." The best thing to do would be to give up all the electricity, but something told him maybe they could use it to do some good. Of course, he still trusted Rachel about as much as she trusted him. He glanced at the woman he loved. "Give it to Charlie."

"And make her a target?"

"I'll keep her safe in the Republic, Rachel." But that did remind him of something else. "But Flynn, he can turn them on at will."

"He what?" Rachel eyed him warily. "How do you know all this, Bass?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you. But right now, you just have to try to trust me." He sighed. "I know this is hard for you given our track record, but I need you to try. Can you stop him from turning these things on? Cause if you can't, we'll have to destroy it."

She was silent for a moment. "No, I can."

"Good. Your kids will be put in rooms by you, Rachel. Across the hall, there are two rooms that adjoin through the bathroom. Charlie can have one, Danny the other." He turned to Charlie then. "I know you may still hate my guts, but I could use your help."

She stared him down, her icy eyes fierce. "What about my friends?"

Damn, in all the craziness he'd forgotten about the others. "I'll find out what happened to them, Charlie. They should be here. They'll be given rooms on the same floor as you. They'll be treated as guests."

"With locked doors," Rachel added.

The thought made him cringe, but right now, he couldn't chance them escaping. His eyes pleaded with Charlie to understand. "Just for now. Until we can all trust one another. But you'll all be safe. I swear on the souls of my little sisters."

The look of shock on Rachel's face might have been comical in other circumstances. After she recovered, a simple nod told him she had accepted his declaration.

"Destroy that thing now," he said, pointing to the amplifier. He would send Jeremy's men in to get rid of Strausser's body. Right now, they had to get moving. "Charlie, I need you to come with me. Please."

"For what?"

He looked at her and smiled, filling it with all the love he had for her. "We have to find your uncle Miles."

* * *

**So this was actually the chapter that started this whole little thing. It's been the chapter I've been dying to get to because it was the one that inspired the entire story. While rewatching S1 in early June, I thought, what if Bass woke up back in Philly as Gen. Monroe again, except with all the knowledge he has now...and with feelings for Charlie. And I always knew that he was going to wake up in that exact moment of Nobody's Fault But Mine, when he wakes in his suite and someone's pounding on the door.**


	4. It's Not Enough To Say That You're Okay

**Guys, I am so sorry for how long this update took. I'm working on a collaboration and needed to get a chapter done for that. And then real life has kicked my butt lately. Works has been busy and I caught a really rough cold last week. But enough with excuses, I'm just sorry for the delay. **

**I want to thank everyone for their reviews and PMs. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this, and I so love getting reviews from all of you. **

**Also, once more, thank you to Lemon for her invaluable help. **

**I own nothing of Revolution (obviously) or we'd all be watching S3 right now. I also do not own David Lyons, but if he wanted to hang out for a bit, I wouldn't say no ;)  
**

* * *

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye for what must have been the hundredth time. He was trying not to watch her, trying not to stare. Trying desperately not to be the creepy, evil dictator she thought he was. But he couldn't help himself.

He just missed being around her.

After a short disagreement with Rachel, who swore Charlie was not going anywhere with him, under any circumstances, the two of them walked out the door in search of Miles. Rachel was still pissed, but her resolve faltered when he whipped his gun out, flipped it over in his hand, and presented it butt first to Charlie. Once they all saw how serious he was, and after a short, shaky time when he was almost certain the woman he loved was going to shoot him, Charlie blew off her mother's argument and left with him.

So now here they were, all alone in the hallway, a very tense silence between them. Not that it made one bit of difference. She may have accepted some of the things he'd said back in the room with Rachel, but

to her, he was nothing more than a monster. A monster who was promising to stop the bloodshed long enough to find her uncle.

Bass led her down a side hallway, one that led to the back of the building, an entryway into his compound that was always slightly less guarded. Things were different than they had been last time, since he'd remained in the capitol building and not gone out to the factory, but he was sure this was the way Miles was going to enter. He would have, if situations were reversed.

He'd sent a guard to summon Jeremy to meet them. The man stood waiting as they rounded the last corridor.

"Sir."

"Jeremy, no need to be formal. This is Charlie Matheson."

The captain's eyes widened before he could compose himself. "Well, I've heard a lot about you lately, Miss Matheson."

"Yeah, I bet," she said, her tone as snappy as always.

Bass couldn't stop the small smile from crossing his lips. Some of his feelings must have shone through in that moment, for when he met Jeremy's eyes there was a question in them. Well, there was a discussion he was not going to able to avoid. "Jeremy, Will Strausser threatened the Matheson family. He disobeyed direct orders. I'm afraid I had to...take action."

The look on the captain's face said he completely understood. And that he completely approved. "Well, that is a shame."

"I need you to-" Nothing more needed to be said. Jeremy would take care of the body. "Did he have family?"

Jeremy scoffed. "Not Strausser, Sir."

Bass nodded. "Rachel and her son are still in the room, working on a project I gave her. Try not to disturb them, all right?"

"Of course," Jeremy said, his eyes flicking to the end of the corridor. "I dismissed the guards, as per your orders. Bass, are you sure you want to meet Miles alone like this?"

"I'm not alone." He motioned to the woman beside him. "I have Charlie."

The open-mouthed gape on Jeremy's face was almost comical. "Yeah, that would still leave you as the vulnerable party here. No offense, Miss Matheson, but they could team up on you."

"True." He stared at Charlie until her blue eyes met his in surprise. There was no way she could know what he was thinking, or feeling, but he loved having the contact with her again. "I could die within the hour, Captain Baker. At the hands of my best friend, or his niece. But I hope they'll give me the chance to try to make things better."

Jeremy cleared his throat, and Bass turned to him. "I could stay with you. Just...so you're evenly matched."

"Thank you, Captain. But I have to do this. I have to face Miles alone." He patted Jeremy on the shoulder. "Please, just take care of Strausser. And make sure the Mathesons are comfortable. Get them something to eat, drink, whatever they need."

"Yes, Sir." He paused before turning the corner. "Bass, try not to kill each other. I always liked the both of you."

Bass chuckled as Jeremy walked away, leaving him alone once again with Charlie. Baker really was a good friend. What a grave error in judgment he'd made last time, with his paranoia and distrust.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her voice interrupted his train of thought, and he gazed at her. If that didn't bring back memories of their time on the road. The ferocity with which he missed her threatened to swallow him whole. How strange to miss someone so much when they were right in front of you. But this woman wasn't quite his Charlie; she would never wrap her arms around him to offer him comfort. But, God, did he want her to.

So why was he doing this? For her, for Miles, for his son, for the better world he wanted the Republic to be, for the chance to be the man she deserved, and maybe, most of all, for himself. To be the type of man his family would have been proud of.

But the last time he'd answered that question it hadn't gone so well. What could he possibly say this time to make it better? "Because I've made a lot of really bad decisions."

"And you think you can make it all better now?"

"I can never make it better, Charlie." His eyes locked on hers. "I love Miles like a brother, but he made a lot of bad choices too. It seems like he's getting a second chance. I hope I can, too."

Her eyes filled with something that might have been understanding, but she looked away before he could tell. Her voice was small when she spoke. "You can't fix some things."

He recognized the tone. She was such a strong woman, but there were times when she needed to be the soft-hearted girl deep inside. In the time he was currently in, she was a lot closer to that young girl, but even in the future, she sometimes needed someone to lean on. More often than not in the last few months, that had been him. It took everything in him not to pull her against him. "I know, Charlie. I can't bring back your dad. I wish to God I could. I would give so much to be able to bring him back to you, Charlie."

"Why do you do that?" Her gaze caught his again. Jesus, even in this world, there was no way to stop their connection. "Why do you talk to me as if you know me?"

There was no easy way to answer that. "I'm sorry if I'm being too informal with you. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I just...need your help. Miles is coming into this city to kill me. For years, he stayed hidden and didn't care. But I suspect you have something to do with his change of heart."

"So I'm a hostage?"

"No!" Oh God, no. "You're not a hostage. You have the gun, Charlie. I just want you to help me convince Miles to talk to me. To offer me the same opportunity he's getting. To have the chance to change."

She said nothing. Her eyes darting from him to the end of the hall where Miles would be coming through and back again.

"Please." That was all he could do. Simply ask for her help...for even a smidgen of her trust.

She stared at him for what seemed an eternity. "OK."

He was pleasantly surprised. "OK?"

"But if you screw this up..."

"Just give me a chance."

She nodded, and they both went back to keeping watch for her uncle.

Ten minutes later, the man in question crept into sight, shock registering on his face when he found Bass and Charlie at the opposite end of the hall. Aiming his gun, he took one look at the situation and immediately drew the wrong conclusion. "What the hell did you do to her, you son of a bitch?"

Yeah, he'd heard that before, too. "Nothing. I didn't touch her, Miles. I swear to you. She's here of her own freewill."

He glanced at Charlie, waiting for her response, worried for just one second that she might deny his last words and leave him to the mercy of her uncle after all. But she didn't. "Miles, he's telling the truth."

Miles looked between the two of them, anger drawing over his face. "How the hell could you brainwash her so fast?"

"I didn't."

"Charlie, come over here to me," Miles said, gun still pointed at Bass.

He knew that if she left his side and crossed to Miles, he was most likely a dead man. "You're free to go, Charlie."

She stared at him; she must have drawn the same conclusion. Miles was so angry and uncertain that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if she was out of harm's way. Charlie turned back to her uncle. "I think we should just listen to him."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Charlie, he's a master manipulator. He will say anything to get you to believe him."

Well, now he knew where that opinion came from. Not that it wasn't warranted. "So, you're the only one who gets a second chance, huh, Miles? You're the only one who woke up one day and thought 'this is not what I want?' That couldn't possibly happen to me. I couldn't ever realize that things had gotten so far out of my control. We were brothers once. Don't I deserve a chance?"

Miles just glared at him.

"All right, let me tell you what I know. I'm not the same man that went to bed last night. You can say that was fast, but it was just as fast for you. I made a horrible mistake, and you just turned and ran. And all along, I thought I was protecting you. So yeah, this was a rapid change for me, Miles, but it's real all the same." Bass slowly started down the hall towards his best friend, Charlie trailing right behind. At least this was the same as last time; Miles still had the gun pointed at him. "We were family. We looked out for each other, we always did. Even when the other one screwed up."

Miles scoffed. "You're saying I screwed up. That you forgive me."

"No, Miles," he said, inching even closer. "I'm asking you to forgive me."

That must have surprised the hell out of Miles because his gun dropped to his side. "What?"

"I screwed up, brother. A lot." He continued his slow crawl down the hallway. "I know you think I'm a lost cause. I...I probably was. And you can say we're no longer family. You can say I mean nothing."

"Bass..." Miles whispered.

Miles had used those hurtful words on him last time, and they'd tipped him all the way over the edge he'd been teetering on. But last time, Bass hadn't had the luxury of knowing about a future conversation. "But I don't know if that's true. I think that deep down, we will always be brothers. And no matter how much that might bother you, it's still there. After you left, I asked myself the same question over and over again. Why did you try to shoot me? But let me ask you a different one. Why couldn't you shoot me, Miles?"

Miles's eyes widened and he turned away. He was silent for a few minutes. "Because you're right, you pain in the ass."

The tension in the hall dropped significantly. Bass released a deep breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He heard Charlie sigh heavily as well. "So...can we attempt to talk without you pointing a gun at me?"

"I don't know, Bass. This isn't exactly the reception I was expecting. There are almost no guards out there. I come in here and you're here...with my niece."

"You sound pissed that I don't have soldiers after you."

"Well, I...I mean, I was expecting something. Neville, Strausser." Miles turned to Charlie. "I get back to Kip's house and you guys are all gone. I was preparing for the worst. Where the hell is Kip?"

"I think he's having a night cap in kitchen, actually," Bass said. "Kip's fine, Miles. I had them all brought here, without Neville's knowledge."

"Because..."

"Because Neville's been placed under arrest. And Strausser..." Bass looked at Charlie. Miles raised an eyebrow. "Strausser held your niece at gunpoint. An order I did not give, I assure you. When I asked him to lower his weapon, he disobeyed me. He continued to ignore my orders, until..."

His eyes met Miles's. "You shot him."

Before he could respond, Charlie jumped in. "He would have shot me."

"Well, one good deed doesn't make you a changed man, Bass," Miles said. "But saving my niece gives you a bit of an extension. Is Danny okay?"

"He's fine," Charlie said. "He's with mom."

It took Miles two seconds to react. He shoved Bass against the wall, rifle pressing against his neck. "She's alive, bastard. You kept her prisoner for...how long?"

"Miles!" Charlie shouted at her uncle's outburst.

"She was a prisoner before you left," Bass choked out. "I kept her here, true. But those are apologies I have to make to her, not you."

"She was dead."

"No, there was an accident. You saw a body and assumed. It's a bad habit you have." Bass coughed. "Miles, it's getting hard to breathe."

Miles released him with a groan. "This just gets better and better."

"Shouldn't you be happy she's alive?" Bass rubbed at his sore neck.

The glare from Miles's dark eyes was formidable. "What the hell other surprises am I going to find here?"

Without initiating it, Charlie's gaze locked with Bass's. He could barely hold back his delight. "Maybe we should sit and talk." 

* * *

"So, let me get this straight..." Miles sat across from Bass's desk, Charlie beside him. Still having a hard time being in the big leather chair behind the desk, Bass leaned against the front of it. "Strausser's dead; Rachel's alive; Neville's under arrest, and there's a guy coming here who can pretty much blow up the entire east coast. And you've had a giant change of heart. Did I miss anything?"

Well, that was the last hour of conversation in a nutshell. "Nah, pretty much covers it."

Miles ran his hand over his face. "I gotta tell you, Bass, I was coming here to get my nephew back and put a bullet in you. This is...not how I ever saw this scenario playing out."

"I understand that. And I have to ask you for a big favor."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Why do I think I'm going to hate this?"

"Because you are. I need you to help me run this Republic again." He took a deep breath, muttering a quick prayer that his words wouldn't fall on deaf ears. Then his eyes shifted to Charlie. "The both of you, actually."

"Me?" Charlie squeaked.

"Yeah, I think you might have some very good ideas, Charlie." He already knew she did; she'd filled him in on his inadequacies as a leader on the way to Willoughby. But a lot of what she'd told him made good sense. "I suspect there are some things you find very wrong with the Republic. I want to know what they are. I want to know things that might be going on that are illegal. And I want any ideas you have on ways to fix these problems. I meant it when I said I'm making things different, better. I want the two of you to help me do this."

Miles's mouth was hanging open but no sound was coming from it. Bass realized it was a lot to take in, especially considering the original plan had been to take him out. "Miles, what are you thinking?"

Miles stared at him for awhile, and a flood of memories from their lives together flashed through Bass's mind. "I'm thinking I'm still in that tunnel hallucinating."

"This is real, brother."

"I can't go back to being who I used to be," Miles said. Having a future perspective, Bass knew enough to realize Miles wanted back in. But he also knew that if he wanted his best friend on his side, nothing could stay the way it was. The song couldn't remain the same. "I don't want that."

"Miles, I'm not lying. This isn't a scheme or a plan." He placed his hand on his chest, rubbing it over his heart, his next words choking him up before he uttered them. "I swear to you...on Shelly and the baby, I am not the same man anymore. If I had help, if I had my family, I could make this into what it was supposed to be all along. Jeremy is willing to change. I'm rooting out the men we can't trust. I trust the people in this room with my life. Help me."

Charlie seemed startled by his statement, though Miles did not. She and her uncle exchanged a glance before turning back to him. "So, Rachel's destroying this amplifier thing?"

"She is," Bass said.

Miles sighed. "We take this one day at a time. And my family stays safe."

"Miles, I need some assurances. I need to keep the doors locked. I don't want you guys to be prisoners, but I..." Jesus, he was going to lose it. He couldn't face being abandoned again. All he wanted was to be a part of Miles's life again, Charlie's life. He felt his eyes tearing up. "If you change your mind, you could all just leave..."

They could all just leave him.

Miles must have seen how he was struggling. He stood and rested a hand on Bass's arm, swallowing thickly before speaking. "Bass, I don't want my family to be held against their will. So if you really have changed, you gotta start trusting people again. I will not leave you, but if they want to go...you have to let them. But I will stay. I will see this through with you."

Bass breathed out, a shaky chuckle escaping. To have that, to have his brother's support again eased so much of the pain scarring his heart. "Thank you."

"I'll stay too." Both men turned to Charlie. A sheen of unshed tears made her blue eyes vibrant. My God, he loved her and her sweet, tender soul. He had no doubt those tears were for her uncle and not him, but he loved her anyway. "If you promise to make these changes, then I'll stay."

Miles having his back was one thing. Charlie having it...well, it almost felt like he was home again. "I'll...I'll take you to see Rachel. I know you want to. Charlie, you should go too. Your whole family should be reunited."

And no matter how much he might wish it, he wasn't a part of that family. Not yet anyway. 

* * *

It was almost nightfall when Miles came waltzing into the office like he owned the place. Bass rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself. Some things never changed. No one else would dare walk in unannounced. Even if he wasn't the dictator they all thought he was. At least Miles had kept his promise; without a guard and with no locks on the doors, he hadn't walked away. Bass had kept his own promise, one he made to himself; he hadn't bothered the Matheson family all day. He locked himself in his office and read over rules, regulations, and policies that had been the basis for the Monroe Republic. If he was going to make changes, he had to start over at the beginning.

"Everything go okay with your family?" he asked.

"It did." Miles was silent for a second as he stared at Bass. "I don't assume to know what happened here. I just know that 24 hours ago, I was fairly certain I was going to have to kill you. I mean, Bass, you had bounty hunters after us, militia. You killed Ben for Christ's sake. You took Danny."

"I didn't mean for Ben to die. Neville was supposed to bring him in alive. And Danny...I never ordered that."

"Yeah, but you used it against Rachel, didn't you?" Miles glared at him, his eyes hard. "She told me you taunted her with the fact that her son was on his way here. And that you would use him to force her to do what you wanted. You son of a bitch."

Jesus, had he really done all those things a year ago? It about killed him that he had. He really was the monster Charlie and her family accused him of being. No wonder she had hated him with such ferocity. How had she ever forgiven him enough to even touch him? The fact that she cared for him, that she wept for his death at all was a miracle. "I know all the things I've done, Miles. I will have to live with them every day for the rest of my life. And yes, I was cruel. I was evil. I suppose I was even a little insane. How can I justify that? The truth is I can't. I can only tell you I'm a different person now."

"That was yesterday, Bass," Miles said, the anger barely concealed in his voice. "Yesterday you threatened Danny."

"Miles, if I told you what happened to me, you wouldn't believe me. So please, just once more, please trust me. I'm so sorry about Ben. I'm sorry about Danny. But he's here now. He's safe. Nothing's going to happen to him."

"And Charlie?"

"I would never hurt her." He'd die first.

Miles stared at him for a minute. "You know on the way here, Charlie wanted to help these kids out. The one kid's older brother had been taken for conscription."

Taking kids against their will. That had to be one of the most heinous acts of his entire republic. "Miles, the orders to disband those ships and get those kids safely back home are going to be done first thing."

"She got onto one of the boats, Bass."

His heart stopped. That was news to him; all the things they'd shared on the way back to Willoughby, all the topics they'd covered...she had never mentioned that. "Charlie was conscripted?"

"Well, she snuck on. But, uh, things got a little out of hand." Miles crossed the room, pouring himself a whiskey and slinging it back, before pouring another. "She was branded."

"What!" Bass's eyes widened. No, that wasn't possible. He'd shared a small space with her for a month. He'd held her at night; he'd kissed her; he would have known.

Or would he?

Charlie always wore her jacket, or if not, she always wrapped her wrist. He'd thought nothing of it; after all, he wrapped his own on the road. And the one time she hadn't, in the bar, he'd hadn't looked. He'd snagged her jacket and thrown it over her prone body before lifting her into his arms to carry her out. Even setting her down under the bridge, he'd kept her covered. He'd never seen her wrist. And she had never told him. Of course she hadn't; she was sparing him the guilt he was now submerged in.

"So see, Bass, you've already hurt her," Miles said.

Charlie...Charlie bore his brand. Now he had to make that damn symbol mean something so much more than it currently was. He had to make the Republic into something good. "Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her."

Miles scoffed. "Well, it's just a hell of a day, isn't it?"

"I'll make it up to her, and to you. To Danny, to Rachel. I know I did some bad shit, Miles. I know I lost it. But a lot of bad shit happened to me. That's not an excuse for what I became. No more excuses." He said that to Rachel in the tower. And he meant it. He did know how much blood was on his hands. Time to start making things clean. "But I have the power."

"Power?" Miles questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not like that." He shook his head, his eyes fierce as he explained to his best friend. "The power to do good, to help people."

"We fucked this up before, Bass. What makes you think things will be any different now?" Miles plopped into a chair by the desk.

Because now he knew the future. That and... "Charlie. You can't ask for a better moral center than her. I'll have a council I can trust."

"Yeah, kid knows how to lay on a guilt trip, I'll tell you." Miles chuckled, a smile crossing his face. "She got to you already, didn't she?"

"What?"

"You already look like you've been bowled over."

Oh, he'd been bowled over by Charlie, all right. He'd been bowled all the way over into falling in love. "She's an interesting girl."

"Yeah, but don't get too interested. She's my niece. Don't get any funny ideas." Miles scowled at him.

Too late, buddy. They'd already moved way past ideas. 

* * *

This was such a bad idea. Walk away, idiot. Go back to your room and leave her in peace. She doesn't want to talk to you.

He knocked on her door. "Charlie?"

A few minutes passed before it opened, Charlie fixing him with a cold stare. "Can I help you?"

"I, um, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." Why did he feel like a nervous teenager? "Can I come in for a second?"

She eyed him for a moment, then walked away in silence, leaving the door ajar behind her. He supposed that was the best invitation he was going to get. He entered, gently closing the door behind him. "Uh...is this room okay for you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It's fine."

"Do you need anything?" She shook her head. "Well, if you do...need anything...just ask one of the guards in the hall, and they'll make sure you get it."

"Oh, you mean the armed guards outside my door?"

He glanced away. "Charlie, they are there for your protection. Not to keep you locked inside. You're all free. I made that deal with you, and I'll keep up my end of it."

"I'm fine, actually. Just getting ready for bed."

And that was a dismissal; he'd given enough in his time to recognize it. "Of course. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was..."

"Fine, yeah, I heard you." She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, my brother's not dead, so I guess I'm all right."

God, she was so good at the guilt trip. Not that he needed Miles to tell him that. "I'm not going to let anything happen. Not to either one of you. Charlie, I swear."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Acting like we're old pals. We're not friends, Monroe." He hated being back to that name with her. All that time they had spent meant nothing in the here and now. She stood, crossing the room and getting right into his face. Well, this he was familiar with. "Your troops killed my father and kidnapped my brother. I'm here for my family. I agreed to all of this to save the lives of those innocent people out there in your republic. I'm not here to help you."

He knew that, realistically he knew that, but damn it, if that didn't hurt like hell. Well, he deserved any animosity she directed his way. "So...my second chance..."

"I'm giving you one chance, Monroe. You screw this up and Miles won't have to kill you. I'll put a bullet in you myself." She shot him that sarcastic smile she loved to use on him.

Hell, not like she hadn't tried to kill him before. "Fair enough. But thank you anyway, Charlie."

She huffed. "You have to stop that. My family and friends call me that. What gives you the right to use my nickname?"

He gazed at her softly, memories swirling around him. He'd never brought this up to her on the road. It was a story they hadn't yet shared. If they'd had more time together, he would have told her, but their time had run out. "Well, it's my mine. I mean...I gave it to you."

She stepped back from him, almost stumbled really, and he resisted the urge to reach out and steady her. Her eyes were so wide and blue as they bore into him, obvious questions in them. "No...that's not true. That nickname was given to me by Basti...an..."

Her voice trailed off as she gaped at him, tears filling her eyes. He felt so much love for her in that moment he thought it might knock him to his knees.

She shook her head. "No...you can't be...he was..."

He knew she didn't remember it clearly enough. How could she really; she'd been four. "He was...a friend of your uncle."

"He was...a friend...an imaginary friend," she whispered.

"No, Charlie, he was very much real." His mind cast him back almost twenty years before. He chuckled, tears filling his eyes. "When Miles and I came to visit your family for a few days, you were obsessed with that movie, The NeverEnding Story. I think you drove your mother crazy watching it. One of the characters was named Bastian...and when you found out my name, you insisted on calling me that."

Not that he minded. She'd been so cute and full of life; she'd reminded him so much of his little sisters. It should have hurt; instead, her exuberance had placed a balm on his heart. "I told you that I'd have to give you a nickname, too. When I first called you Charlie, you laughed and told me that was a boy's name. I told you that a lot of girls had boy's nicknames...and you decided you liked it."

She hadn't just liked it; she'd loved it. In one of his last contacts with the Matheson family prior to the Blackout, Rachel had told him that Charlie liked it so much, she would no longer let anyone call her anything else. She proudly bore the nickname Bastian had bestowed upon her. "So it was my name for you...before everyone else."

A single tear fell down her cheek. "Bastian was my...friend...I felt safe with him. Right after the Blackout, I kept hoping he would come...and save me. But he never did."

His own eyes were swimming with tears. To hell with being a ruthless dictator. He wasn't that man. In his heart, he was Bass...he was Charlie's Bass. "I tried. Miles and I, we walked to Chicago to find you...but you were gone...we couldn't..."

"How did you become this?" Before he could utter a word, she sighed heavily and turned away from him. "Just...leave me alone, please."

"Yeah...I'm sorry. I'll go..." He gazed longingly at her back, the slump in her shoulders causing a crack in his heart. He exited the room without another word.

But he swore he heard soft cries as the door clicked shut. God, he hadn't meant to hurt her. He just wanted to hold her, to make it all better. But he couldn't. She wasn't his Charlie.

But he was still her Bass. And he swore to himself he would make her smile again if it killed him. 

* * *

**Yeah, I'm the one who likes it when Bass calls her Charlie. So now, I made it HIS nickname ;)**


	5. I Need Your Hurt

**Sorry again, guys, for how long it took for this update. Real life just will not leave me alone. But I want to thank everyone for all the reviews and comments and PMs...I really do appreciate it so much. And I promise to TRY to update far more frequently. But please don't worry. I would never, ever leave a story hanging. **

**Again, I own nothing of Revolution. Still holding out hope for David Lyons though... :)**

* * *

His heart hammered in his chest as he approached her room early the next morning. The door was ajar. But the guards stood in the hallway and none seemed particularly disturbed by his appearance. If she'd taken off in the middle of the night, they would be nervous, right? That General Monroe would put a bullet in their heads for letting Charlie Matheson leave. But he'd told her she was free...that she could walk right out the door if she so chose. Had she?

Rapping gently on the door, he pushed it open with the edge of his knuckle. "Charlie?"

No one answered and he scanned the empty room for her. Nothing...there was nothing. His eyes fell on the open bathroom door and he rushed to it. Again, he was met with an empty room. God, she couldn't have left.

Then he heard the voices and noticed the door leading to Danny's room was cracked open. Creeping closer, he tilted his head, listening for her voice. He sighed, his heartbeat returning to normal as he heard Charlie and her brother speaking.

"So, wait, a minute," Danny said. "President Monroe...is Bastian?"

"Do you remember him?" she asked.

"I remember that you loved him." Bass's eyes widened. "You were always a loner, Charlie, even once we moved to Sylvania Estates. You spent more time in your head than you did in the world. But I remember the stories you used to tell me about Bastian. How he was a soldier and a fighter and he would come to find us. I guess he found us, huh?"

"I didn't know it was Monroe." Her voice was tight as she spoke to her younger brother. "I thought...I thought I made him up. I don't remember, Danny. Things before the Blackout are just a giant blur. I just wanted..."

"You just wanted someone to keep us all safe. Safer than even Mom or Dad could."

"And now it's him." Bass could hear the disgust in her voice, and his heart sank. This version of Charlie barely wanted to give him a chance.

"Charlie, I know bad stuff happened. I know you blame him, and I'm not saying you shouldn't. He certainly shares his part in all of this. But maybe...I never expected to get here to Philadelphia and have General Monroe ask me for my version of the trip here. Neville did some terrible things to me, Charlie. If Monroe's going to fix that, I'm on board."

"So you're saying you trust him?" Disbelief was evident in her tone.

"No, not yet. But I'm saying the man shot Strausser in the face in an effort to protect you, I think. He said something that convinced Mom that he was trying to make a few amends. And you said Uncle Miles was a tough nut to crack. But even he's on Monroe's side right now. Maybe we just ought to give him a chance."

"Danny-"

"He screws up, Charlie, and I'm first in line to toss him to the firing squad. But for now, maybe we ought to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Damn, he liked this kid.

"Maybe for now," Charlie sighed. "How did you get to be so smart?"

Bass's sentiments exactly. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop on such an intimate conversation, even if it was about him, but knowing Danny had won over Charlie in his favor eased some of the worries plaguing his mind.

He stepped forward and tapped on the bathroom door. "Sorry to interrupt."

Two heads swiveled in his direction, an eyebrow cocking on Charlie's face. "Are you in my room for a reason?"

Yeah, he just wanted to see her before the day started. Not that he could say that. "Just came to make sure you slept okay, Charlotte. Thought Danny might feel a little more at ease around me if his big sister collected him from his room."

Charlie rolled her eyes as Danny chuckled. "I'm not too worried, Mr. President."

"Good, good..." Bass entered the room. "Danny, I know we got off to a bad start. I'm not sure how to make it up to you, not sure if I even can. But I really need your account of what happened on the way here with Neville. It seems I've been lax with some of my men. I have to make that right."

"Yes, Sir."

Bass smiled. "And let's drop the 'sir' thing. At least in private company, all right?"

"What should I..." Danny faltered.

"Bass works fine." He glanced from Danny to Charlie. "For both of you."

"Monroe works just fine for me."

God, he loved that snide part of her, and in the future her cutting remarks to him were often a lead-in to flirting. At the moment though, he wished for sweet Charlie with all of his might. "As you wish, Charlotte. This meeting has to be official. I'll ask you both to accompany me to my office."

Both followed him out, his thoughts lingering on the conversation he'd overheard between brother and sister. Well, she was going to give him a shot, but she sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy on him. 

* * *

He sat behind the big desk, even though he still found he hated it. Hated being in the position of ultimate power. Maybe he always had and that's why he'd lost it. Or maybe he'd finally begun to like it and it drove him insane. Either way, that was never going to happen again. He'd cut his own throat before he'd turn back into General Monroe.

Jeremy and Miles had joined them, and the four sat around the large room, Danny in the seat right in front of him. "Daniel Matheson, I ask you to state clearly and for the record, events that began with your abduction from your home and ended upon your arrival here in Philadelphia."

"They came to our village...Neville immediately started asking my dad questions...I didn't hear all of them, but he did threaten my dad with conscription, for all the children."

Bass looked away. He had never issued an order like that. But he couldn't deny his responsibility in all of this. He had told Tom to bring back Ben Matheson; he'd given him free rein to burn cities and kill men to get to Ben. But how much had he learned in the past year; how much had Charlie taught him in their short time together? He glanced at her, the glossy sheen of tears covering her eyes as Danny recounted the death of their father. He had ultimately done this to her. And it ripped at his soul that he could never completely make it up to her...to any of them. All he could do now was make the Republic a better place.

"Part of it was my fault." Danny's voice grew thick with tears. "I lifted the crossbow and pointed it at the militia. Dad was trying to defuse it, but I...Charlie, I'm sorry."

She let out a strangled cry and dove across the room, dropping to her knees in front of her brother. They grabbed each other, holding on tightly as they both wept for their father. Bass heard her murmuring to Danny, how he wasn't to blame; that it was her fault for not being there at the time. He knew that much, knew Charlie held herself responsible for throwing what she called a temper tantrum and stalking away from the village. Bass had tried to talk sense to her in one of their conversations on the road, but he knew she had never forgiven herself.

He looked around the room, first making eye contact with Jeremy, then Miles. Bass could feel the tears in his own eyes, but found both of the other men just as affected by the Matheson siblings. He focused on Charlie. It was too late for him now; if he hadn't been in love with her before his execution, he certainly was now. Her pain was his pain, and his heart ached for her, and yet he needed to get the rest of Danny's testimony. But he couldn't be the one to interrupt them. His eyes returned to Miles and an entire exchange happened in seconds. Nice to know he still had the ability to converse with his best friend without any words.

Miles stepped over to Charlie and placed a hand on her shoulder. She sniffled, turning her head up to her uncle and nodding at him. She stood and Miles looped an arm around her shoulders, leading her back to her chair. Bass had known the two were close, but he hadn't really got to see it back in Willoughby. This version of Charlie and Miles had just traveled through five states together to get her brother back. He wondered, not for the first time, if she wasn't Ben's child at all.

He swallowed thickly. "Danny, I'm sorry. I have to apologize again, for my role in your father's death. It's not what I wanted."

"Why don't we just continue on," Miles said.

Danny nodded, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Okay...sorry."

"So am I to assume that the exchange became heated? Things started getting out of control?" Bass asked.

"Yes, sir," Danny said. "Before I knew it, someone from the militia had pulled the trigger. He shot my father. So I shot him. And then all hell broke loose. The militia fired on us, and our people fought back."

"Danny, before that, did Major Neville do anything to try and stop the situation? Did he order his man to stand down? Did he intervene at all?" Bass had a suspicion he knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

"No, Sir. He stood there and didn't say anything. He just watched it all happen."

Bass sighed, his eyes meeting Miles again. "Go on."

"Then he just fired upon us, shooting at anyone who was still fighting. And then he took me."

"And then you were on the road?"

"Yes. And he tried to be nice to me at first. He told me you would be angry at him. That you might kill him. I told him I hoped you would." The corner of Bass's mouth twitched, and he glanced up to see the same small smile on Miles's face. "He hit me then, and told me it was my fault that my father was dead."

Miles cleared his throat. "It wasn't."

Danny just looked at his uncle, the guilt evident on his face. "Then I escaped for awhile, but Neville tracked me down. One of his men tortured me for killing his best friend in the skirmish in the village. To be fair, Neville wasn't there at the time. He'd gone into the town for supplies."

All three men in the room snorted. "He left you there."

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, Major Neville was not supposed to leave a prisoner alone at the camp. Ever," Jeremy said. "He knows that, too."

Danny looked to Bass for confirmation. "Sir?"

"It's true. We set that up for exactly the reason you just described. Men looking for vengeance over something." Jesus, his supposedly brilliant army was a walking disaster. "Is there more?"

Danny nodded. "A little. We were somewhere in Indiana and Neville and his men were fighting. I didn't want to fight, but he made me. He hit me, so I hit him back. But he was bigger and stronger, tougher..."

"Do you need some water?" Bass asked, making a motion to Jeremy.

Jeremy handed Danny the glass. The boy clasped it and took a huge gulp. "That's it pretty much. He held me hostage on the train and then we were here."

"Thank you, Danny." Bass stood, walking around the desk and placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know this was difficult. You've done a brave thing."

"Can I go?"

"Of course." Bass looked at Charlie. "Maybe the two of you would like to head to the dining room. I'll have some lunch made up for you."

She looked anything but pleased. "I want to confront Neville."

He understood her reasons, he really did. He even agreed that she should have a chance to look the man in the eye. But now was just not the time. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I want to see him."

"Charlie." Miles stepped up to her. "I think you should probably wait."

"You don't think I could handle it?" she asked, shooting a small look of betrayal at her uncle for not siding with her.

"I don't think that. I don't think that at all. Neither does Miles," Bass said. He knew better than anyone, maybe even Miles, what she could and couldn't handle. "I asked specifically for your help, Charlotte, because I think you're capable of a lot. But Major Neville is under arrest for crimes committed in the Monroe Militia. Right now, I think it would be best if only militia was there to present those crimes."

She sighed and looked away. "Whatever."

"I will let you see him, Charlotte. I will let you have your day with him."

Her eyes connected with his as if trying to read the truth from him. She must have seen what she was looking for as she gave a slight nod and looked back at her brother. "Come on, Danny. Let's go eat."

After the two young Mathesons left the room, Bass plopped back down in the big chair behind the desk. This world was already making him weary. He missed the lackadaisical days of being on the road with Charlie, where it was just the two of them and he was as unimportant as any other nobody. "I guess we have a lot to clean up."

"You think?" Miles and his ever-present sarcasm.

"Miles, I know it's a mess, okay. I don't need to hear it."

"Hey, brother, you wanted me here. Deal with it, dick."

Bass sighed, but it actually felt good to have his best friend digging at him again. "Asshole."

"Boys, all right," Jeremy interrupted. "Listen, Bass, the three of us have done things just as bad as what Tom has done. Why do any of us deserve a second chance?"

Good question. "Miles is already getting one. I know I want to make a difference. Make things right. And you, you seem open to changing your ways."

"All right, true."

"Neville will never change, Jeremy. Trust me, I know. He craves power as much as I did."

"As much as you did...two days ago." Miles shot him a look, eyebrow raised.

"Sudden change, Miles, but still a change." Bass shook his head. "Neville is incapable of it. He and Lady Julia Macbeth are pretty much only looking out for themselves. He threw his son to the wolves more than once."

"Well, then, what the hell are we waiting for?" Miles asked. "Let's go see Tom."

* * *

Neville sat, head in hands as the three men approached his cell. He stood upon seeing Bass and Jeremy, surprise crossing his face as he noticed Miles. "Sir, I have no idea what's going on here. Men arrested me, told me that Jason was still alive and I had lied to you about it. I never told you anything like that, General. My son is very much alive."

Bass cocked an eyebrow. Shit, had he messed up the timeline there...he was working on memory for all of this. Oh, well, it's not like Neville wasn't responsible for so many other crimes. "Tom, I know you. I know we've had issues with Jason in the past, and I was receiving some Intel that your son is working for the rebels. I merely nipped the lie in the bud."

"Jason is not a traitor." So they really hadn't approached that time yet, when Neville found out that his son was indeed working against his own father.

"Let me assure you Jason is a rebel. Let me assure you also that Jason will be invited back to this city with open arms. I need men like him. Men who are willing to fight for what they believe in and not what they are told." Bass leaned against the bars. This man had also threatened his Charlie, taking her father from her along with everything else. "You never stood up for anything, Tom. And you change sides faster than most men change clothes. You are an opportunist. And you don't believe in this Republic, never did. You believe in the power you were granted. I no longer want men like that in my employ."

Neville's eyes widened as he realized how deeply in trouble he was. "I have been loyal to you, Sir. Done everything you asked."

"That's because you're afraid of me. And I can't wait around anymore for the day to come when you feel you can just swoop in and take over my Republic." He backed away from the cell, never breaking eye contact with Tom. "I have more than enough charges against you. You allowed Ben Matheson to get shot, never once taking control of your men before the situation got out of hand. You harassed his son on the way here. You allowed one of your men to attack Danny because he was upset his friend was killed by the boy. You left him alone, at your camp, with officers below you in rank. Tom...come on."

"I was only thinking of what was best for the Republic, General."

Bass scoffed, glancing at Miles. "Do you believe that?"

"No." Miles looked bored out his mind.

"You're not the most trustworthy source, Tom," Bass continued.

He could tell the exact moment Neville went from subordinate officer to a man who answered to no one. Even his voice got smoother. "So what, Miles comes back and everything is just hunky dory?"

"Ah, I was waiting for him to show up." Bass schooled his own features into the unfeeling ones of General Monroe. To save his Republic and the people he loved, he would become the thing he hated once again. "The snake that lives under your skin. Biting people when they least expect it. But you can't bite me, Tom. I know you."

"So the boys are back together. How soon before you're humping one another in the backseat again?"

Miles made a move forward and Bass threw out an arm to stop him. He and Miles didn't have that sort of relationship, never had, but somehow Tom loved to use it against them. Bass clicked his tongue. "Tom, Tom...your favorite argument. I suppose you're just pissed that you never rose as high up the food chain as Miles. But it's getting old. My fixation on Miles just doesn't exist. Not the way you claim it to be. I just wanted my brother back."

"And if it gets rid of scum like you, I'm thrilled to be here," Miles said, dark eyes trained on Neville.

"You're under arrest for treason, Tom. For disobeying orders. Your wife is under house arrest for aiding and abetting." Neville's expression turned stone cold upon the mention of Julia. Bass had to hold back the smile threatening to form. He knew that would get the son of a bitch where he lived. "There's not much else to say."

"And I don't get to defend myself at all," Tom drawled, voice smooth as honey, the sting hiding right behind it.

"I'll think it over," Bass said, turning and walking away, Miles and Jeremy right behind him. He stopped and sauntered back over to the cell. "Actually, there is just one more thing I have to say. This Republic will never be yours. Would **never** have been yours. So I want you to think about that as you sit in this jail cell."

"Your days are numbered, General."

"We'll see about that." Bass grabbed the bars separating him and Neville. "There's one other thing I want you to do for me here in prison."

"What's that?" Tom asked, tone cocky.

"Rot."

* * *

He spent the rest of the day signing forms and filling out papers with orders to fix and organize huge sections of the Republic. He supposed eventually, he would have to either send men he trusted out into the farthest reaches of his country or just go there himself. He needed to make certain that all rules and regulations were being followed, especially the new ones he was implementing. He could not allow things to keep at status quo. He had to pull out the bad weeds from the root.

He breathed a sigh of relief when there was a knock on his door. A small break might be in order. He stood and headed over to the bar. "Enter."

Jeremy stepped into the room. "Bass, you've been locked up here all day."

"Worried about me?" He smirked at the other man, pouring him a drink and holding the glass out to him. "Thanks, Jeremy."

Jeremy sighed and took the offered libation. "So what have you been doing?"

"Well, I sent the orders out to break up and dismantle all the conscription programs. All the kids on the boats are going to be offered the choice of returning to their homes, with time served as part of the militia, or continuing on with their training at one of the facilities here in Philly. All the soldiers in my army will now be voluntary." He sat back at his desk, stretching his long limbs. "I've also started writing up a new list of rules and regulations for our military and local garrisons to follow."

"Hmm," Jeremy grunted, dropping into a chair across from his desk.

Bass stared at his friend for a few moments, humor creeping into his eyes. "Why don't you just tell me what you're really here for, Jeremy?"

"I...I wanted to see how you were...doing..." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "All right, I saw the looks you keep tossing Charlie Matheson's way. Something I should know?"

Bass chuckled. "What makes you think it's any of your business?"

"So you're not even going to deny it?" Jeremy seemed somewhat surprised. "She's Miles's niece."

"Jeremy, listen to me." Bass was dead serious as he spoke his next words. "Charlotte Matheson just might be the one thing that saves this entire Republic. She's already saved me."

"But...you just met her." The twinkle in Bass's eye must have shone through to Jeremy. "Didn't you?"

There was no possible way to explain his relationship with Charlie. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Just trust me."

Jeremy just stared at him for a few minutes. "Is she responsible for this sudden change?"

Bass nodded, never losing eye contact with his friend.

"So it's her fault that Strausser is dead and Neville is under arrest?" Bass cocked an eyebrow at that. But Jeremy's grin eased any apprehension. "Well, then, Sir, I am onboard the Charlotte Matheson train. But I would just watch it."

"I have no intention of hurting her."

"Oh, I don't think you'll hurt her." Jeremy stood, setting his glass on Bass's desk. "I'm more worried about her hurting you, Mr. President."

With that, Jeremy strolled out of his office, leaving a chuckling Bass in his wake.

* * *

Here he was again, standing outside Charlie Matheson's door, like a lovesick teenage boy. Well, he supposed some of that description fit; he was lovesick.

He rapped a knuckle on her door, praying she wouldn't just slam it in his face as soon as she realized it was him.

The door opened a second later and she leaned against the jam. "Well, this is becoming a habit."

"Can I come in, Charlotte?" He shot her a sly smile. "Just wanted to make sure you were all right."

She backed away from the door, allowing him to enter. "Yeah, just like last night. Interestingly, Danny mentioned that you didn't bother to stop at his room to see how he was."

"Well...Danny's been here longer than you."

She nodded, the edges of her mouth curling up slightly. "Right."

He stared openly at her for a few moments, until he noticed her beginning to twitch under his gaze. "I just wanted you to know. I am on your side when it comes to Tom Neville. I want him punished, Charlotte, but I will let you talk to him first."

"Good." She sat on the edge of a chair in the sitting area of her room. "I have some things I need to say to him."

"I'm sure you do." Bass sat opposite her, his hand reaching down to undo the button on his coat. One of the first things he was doing tomorrow was reinstating civilian clothes, unless on duty. Enough with the uniforms. "I also wanted to let you know that I'm breaking up the conscription boats. I'm getting those kids back to their homes."

She looked at him, her eyes never faltering. Charlie always did have a direct stare. "Better late than never."

"But I am going to need you to go over some things with me. Things you think are wrong. Kind of like your brother did today."

"Absolutely."

"Good." He wanted to say so much more. Hell, he wanted to gather her in his arms and just hold on for dear life. Instead, he stood, extending his arm to her. "Until tomorrow then, Charlotte."

She stood, rolling her eyes at his outstretched hand. But she set her hand in his and shook it anyway. And his fingertips felt the edges of the M tattoo she had been branded with. How in God's name had he ever missed it before? How many sins had he committed against this woman, the woman he loved with all of his heart? He released her hand and headed for the door.

"What's with all this Charlotte crap?" she asked.

He turned to face her. "It is your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but, you call me Charlie. I thought it was **your** nickname. You gave it to me apparently." Her tone was cocky, but the look on her face was uncertain. "Yet you've been calling me Charlotte all day."

"I got the impression that you didn't like it when I did it. That I was no longer permitted to call you Charlie." His eyes bored into hers. He didn't want to throw her off and make her uncomfortable, but she had thrown his entire world off. She hated him and it killed him that he couldn't even hold the woman he loved.

She broke the contact, turning away, signaling that once again, he was dismissed. He sighed, lowering his head as he walked to the door.

"Charlie's fine."

He spun around and found her facing him. "Excuse me?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "I said...Charlie is fine. I prefer it."

"You do, huh?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"So are you saying, **Charlie**, that you prefer the nickname I made up for you?" Yeah, he was pushing the envelope, maybe even pushing her a little, but it was the first point she had conceded him even an inch. His eyes were soft though as the gazed at her, full of the love he felt for her.

"It fits me more than Charlotte does." She turned away, flustered. "Look, let's not make a big deal out of it...it's just Charlie, okay?"

"Okay." If there was just a little cock in his walk as he strolled out the door, the hell with it. He deserved it. He grabbed the door, pulling it closed behind him. "Good night, Charlie."

There was no answer, just as he suspected there wouldn't be. She'd shown him more than enough vulnerability tonight, and he knew her enough to know that she'd close herself off for a bit now. Didn't matter. He'd made one small chink in her tough as nails armor. He hummed an old tune from before the Blackout as he made his way to his own set of rooms.

One point to Bass Monroe...


End file.
